Comeback
by Misti Wolan
Summary: AU—Luke & his Jedi Order find a new young senator who's an expert politician though no one's ever heard of her, an unbelievable nightmare which comes true, a secretary who's met Vergere "many times", & others of like eccentricity. Who are they?
1. Prologue

Summary: What do you get when you combine a Tatooinian senator who's an expert politician though no one's ever heard of her, an unbelievable nightmare which comes true, and a secretary who's met Vergere "Many times"? (Won't show up for awhile, & won't be _clearly _explained for longer.)  
  
Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? We all know who Star Wars belongs to. (Note: Several "original" characters aren't so original, after all. That's the only hint I'll give.)  
  
Author's Note:  
I have some weird ideas, I know. Yet another example of my taking hints and running with them. (If you don't get who the people are in part 1 of the prologue, you can see the version adapted for "While Darkness Fell")  
Warning: This is restart 14 of this story, and I expect I'll restart it another 14 times before it's done, so its content can change immensely w/out warning.  
I'm not going to tell you my background logic for this one until someone figures out what is going on.  
The Prologue is darker than much of the story, and won't be explained for a long while. It's meant more as a blaring hint when the Skywalkers and Solos have some odd experiences.  
Enjoy! :)  
  


PROLOGUE  
  


Part I: SENATOR  
**20.5 years before _A New Hope_**  


  
  
"…We are a _republic_, Senators. We may be at war, but that does _not_ mean our government must change so we can handle it!  
"Chancellor Palpatine has led us well, I readily admit. But in reacting to this war, we have given him no less power than a dictator. Is _that_ a republic, Senators? Rule by one man's decree?  
"I therefore conclude that though Palpatine has offered us excellent guidance in trying times, the illegality of his power calls for another strong leader to step up—"  
"And who will this 'strong leader' be?" Malastair's Senator interrupted. _"You_?"  
"If nominated for the position I would not refuse," the Human woman firmly replied, her dark shining hair and eyes making her fair skin all the more attractive. "But I do not aim for it."  
She seemed to falter slightly, then drew herself up as she finished her speech. "I call for a vote of no confidence in Chancellor Palpatine's leadership."  
  
Her red senatorial robes removed, the svelte woman had changed into a gossamer white gown, her glistening dark tresses cascading down her back, her piercing dark gaze adding to her perfect skin.  
She stood in the shadows, near the door. A tall young man stood at the window, his back to her. His blond hair was cut short but for a single thin braid trailing one shoulder; his nondescript tan tunic and trousers labeled him as a Jedi, his braid identifying him as a Padawan, a Jedi Apprentice.  
He stood, muscles taut, facing the fading sunlight.  
"Your friend is still in office."  
"Good." The Padawan's voice was cold.  
The woman looked down sadly, one hand's fingers gently running over her stomach. "We can't keep it secret, anymore," she said softly.  
The Padawan didn't move. "Why not?"  
The Senator stepped forward delicately, seeking his face. "I'm—" The look in his eyes made her stop.  
"What?" he asked, moving towards her.  
Her silence angered him. "I asked you a question!" he snarled.  
She shook her head, her sorrowful eyes staying on his as she retreated. "Nothing."  
He caught her arm, blue eyes burning gray with fury. "What?" he demanded.  
The woman swallowed. _"Nothing_. I made a mistake."  
The Padawan's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "A mistake? Mistook me for someone else, maybe?"  
She stared at him, uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"  
He glared down at her, millimeters away. The Padawan's voice trembled with anger. "You're _mine_. No one else's. _Mine_."  
She closed her eyes, not letting the tears fall. "How can you think otherwise of me, Anakin?" she whispered.  
She never saw his fist.  
  
"Senator?" a man's voice called. "Senator Naberrie?"  
The door squealed as its locking mechanism was overrode by an outside influence.  
"Oh Force!"  
The man, dressed in a nondescript tan tunic and a brown cloak, knelt, his fingers lifting a strip of torn, bloodied fabric. His blue eyes took in the scene; the overturned end table, the few bloodstains, and this single shred of fabric.  
Two hooded females followed, dressed the same as he. "Obi…" The leader's voice trailed off, and the Jedi knew his colleague had come to the same conclusion he had.  
"An attack," the other said softly, horror in her voice.  
His eyes closed, the Jedi didn't answer. Opening his eyes abruptly, he swayed on his feet, nodding towards a closet. He swallowed, as if in pain. "There. She's…"  
Without waiting for the security to act, the woman in front turned to the other. "Barriss."  
Barriss leapt lightly to that side of the room. "It's locked." Her lightsaber was drawn and ignited before she'd even finished her statement, cutting into the door.  
She turned slowly, the battered senator gathered in her arms.  
The man's eyes were closed once more as he tested the Senator's Force-energy. "Oh, no…"  
Without waiting for an order, Barriss lay the woman on the couch, kneeling beside it.  
"She's stable, Masters." The tone had a hint of surprise, for at the first glance Naberrie seemed to be fading. But whenever her Force-energy got in the danger zone, it flickered, strengthening just enough to hang on, without losing energy.  
Barriss shot a glance around the room. "Want me to see if I can find who did it?"  
The man winced.  
"Obi-Wan." He met his friend's cobalt blue gaze. "We don't have much choice."  
Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed. "You'll be the one who gets her tongue-lashing, Luminara."  
At Jedi Luminara Unduli's nod, her young Padawan tentatively raised her hand to the Naboo Senator's face. She'd heard stories from her friend, Anakin Skywalker, and knew the woman was extremely strong-minded, if not stubborn. She hoped Padmé Amidala wouldn't mind the prying too much…  
_ Very well._  
Barriss started, taken off guard as much by the Senator's sturdy mental shielding as by the telepathic message. Not only did she not know the woman well—Senator Naberrie wasn't even Force-sensitive!  
_ I'll show you._  
She barely had time to wonder at the bitter tone before memory flooded her mind.  
Jedi Padawan Barriss Offee screamed.  
  


Part II: SHAPER  
**29.5 years after _A New Hope_**  


  
  
Rank pits filled with sacrifices' ashes lay below their feet; the skin, bones, and blood of those offered poured into separate cesspools…  
"The gods have smiled upon your plan, Olog Gaar." The cloaked figure strolled calmly beside the scarred Yuuzhan Vong warrior. "The new voxyn is near completion."  
A sneer crossed Olog's features as he glared at the woman. Occasionally he could glimpse the deep eyes looking up at him from within the cloak; keen eyes, belying their owner's soft voice.  
_"Completely_?" he growled, making sure the wording hid no tricks.  
He caught a glimpse of the sour smile beneath her hood. "I said it was nearing _completion_, did I not?"  
Olog nearly hesitated, recognizing her tone. This Shaper was a dangerous one. Her devotion to the gods was unquestioned; rumor had it that she'd killed her old Master Shaper for forsaking them, rising to the honorable position in the old man's place.  
"Forgive me, Tayun Kwaad." He inclined his head in her direction. "I am too used to the implied being a lie."  
Her head slightly bowed, all Olog could see were the woman's lips, curled into a sneer. "Perhaps your ranks require a cleansing. A practical test for the new voxyn."  
Olog Gaar hid his surprise. Indeed, he had been thinking the same thing, but had believed such a suggestion would be offensive to the Shaper. She was shrewder than he'd realized. The ranks' situation was the concern of the leaders and priests, not shapers. That she bothered herself with it at all was a unique exception.  
"Perhaps," he said finally. "If you believe it would work."  
"Should it not?"  
His face rippled at the challenge in her tone. He'd always found her behavior more befitting a warrior than a shaper. "Only leaving room for error, Tayun."  
Olog caught himself, quickly adding "Kwaad."  
The cloaked figure stopped, and he could feel her sharp gaze piercing his back. He turned to look at her.  
Her brown eyes blazed with a fire much like that of a warrior. "My predecessor accepted such insults. _I_ do not. Remember that."  
Olog Gaar hid his trembling as she strode away. She was a Shaper, forbidden territory, but—  
How he wished she was a warrior!  
  
Secure, determined footsteps came down the hall, pausing in front of the creature-door…  
Inside, a relatively unmarked male shaper worked diligently at his station, so much so that he did not glance up as his mistress entered. The 'door' opened, admitting his mistress.  
"Report?" Her voice, though quietly strong with others, did not hide its command from its subordinates.  
Only then did the male stop in his duties and turn to bow low to his cloaked mistress, the youngest Shaper ever made a Master. "I have made minimal progress, Honored One."  
_"Minimal_?" she hissed, the question indisputably a command for a definition.  
He bowed again, offering a sharp nod towards the object of his study. "The abomination defies all attempts at logic, Honored One. I cannot comprehend it."  
The male shaper felt his mistress's eyes leave him to glance at the lightsaber. _"Comprehend_? Who asked you to _comprehend_ it, Kotah?" she spoke softly, but power backed her words.  
He bowed. _"Belek tu_, Honored One. I have misunderstood my assignment. My life as payment." He dropped to her knees before her in the motion common to the warrior caste and alien to the shaper, before they found Tayun Kwaad.  
Palm up, her creature-hand stopped with the forefinger a millimeter from his throat. A wry smile lay on her lips as she drew that hand into a fist. "No," she replied. "You have seen your failing and take responsibility for it. The gods will have me grant you another opportunity, so you may use what you have learned."  
Her head cocked to the side as she circled him. "Your _assignment_," she stressed, "is to collect the data from this—_abomination_." Her lips curled into a snarl as she spoke that word, then shifted into a wry smile. "_I_ will analyze. The time draws near—work quickly!"  
Returning to his feet, her subordinate bowed humbly. "If any can unravel this mystery, it is you, Honored One."  
With a sharp nod, she left swiftly—then stopped, her hooded head turned towards him. "You doubt my wisdom."  
The male tensed slightly. "I merely ponder why we need study this abomination, Honored One."  
A sneer appeared on her pale, almost pink lips as she nodded slowly. "A lesson in _Jeedai_, Kotah. They can choose not to use their Force. Such was the first queen voxyn's failing. She could not know the _Jeedai_ were near because they chose not to reveal themselves!"  
The sneer took a pleased cast. "But a lightsaber, Kotah. A _lightsaber_ no _Jeedai_ would choose to leave behind.  
"And the voxyn who can track this weapon," she finished quietly, "can find all _Jeedai_."  
  
Author's Note:  
What do you think? I'll only continue it if asked.  
  


REVIEW PLEASE! :)  


  
  



	2. One

Author's Note:  
My apologies. I have, in fact, begun another restart; but not a _complete_ restart. (Meaning I have some chapters finished I just need to figure out where to put them.) I liked this as an opening chapter, so… Here goes. I know what the next one will be, too—no way I'm getting rid of the… mess that one introduces!—but I'll only post it if asked.  
Thank you, Rose-Arwen-Padmé for that review. Sorry about missing that detail in your story… It's weird how your eyes can miss something you're specifically looking for.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

** 32 years after _A New Hope_ **

* * *

** PART ONE  
  
MISFITS**

* * *

Chapter One

_ Luke_.  
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker turned to his wife. "What?"  
Mara's lips quirked. "Pay attention!" she hissed from her mouth's corner.  
Sighing, he returned his focus to the arguing rabble this new proposal had turned the Senate into. "To what?" he asked wearily, a woman's powerfully commanding voice flowing in one ear and out the other. "More insults?"  
Mara's green eyes narrowed at him. "You aren't listening."  
"—_That_ is why we need this fleet, Senators. Not for Jedi power or military, but for _our own profit_. A Jedi shipyard would _protect_ non-Jedi, providing a buffer much like Durron's Dozen—"  
"Kyp's Dozen," the Togarian senator hissed, "_murdered_ non-Jedi!"  
"Did they?" The young senator's tone dared any of the more experienced politicians—in other words, anyone here—to challenge her.  
"That is beside the point," she continued smoothly, just as the grumbling began. "My point is Jedi, having little transportation of their own, have no way of replacing any commandeered ships. With their own manufacturing facility, they would be able to make amendsfor any damage they inadvertently cause in their service to our galaxy!"  
Strong brownish-green eyes scanned the Senate, golden hair cascading in glistening braids over the Human's regal emerald robes. She stood, serenely secure in the midst of the surreal quiet that had descended upon the Senate.  
Luke's neck prickled with unease. He tensed, expecting some demand or action on her part. With the Senate this taken by her speechmaking abilities, she could probably get away with it.  
Scarce moving, her gaze swept every Senator where they sat. She gave the slightest nod; so slight Luke himself barely noticed it. "Thank you."  
Her flowing, probably heavy verdant robes glittered with her powdered face in the overhead lighting as she returned to her seat. Gradually, Senators arose in ones, in twos, and finally in groupings, offering their newest member a standing ovation that drowned out the now-minority opposition.  
Senator Misti Whitesun didn't blink.  
  
"She expected their reaction." Luke shook his head as he fell into his chair. Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker hid a slight smile at her husband's decidedly disheveled look.  
Chief of State Cal Omas nodded. "That's my take, too. I'm not sure if I should be grateful to have such a promising young lady in the Senate, concerned at never having heard of her before now, or suspicious of her having a hidden agenda."  
Luke didn't answer for a moment. "Forgive me, Cal, if I doubt that first one. I say 'yes' and 'yes' to the concern and suspicion."  
Mara frowned, raising one of her red brows at Luke. "She supported the Jedi. Shouldn't we at least give her a shot?"  
"My thoughts precisely," Cal confirmed before Luke could reply. "Actually, the reason I stopped by was to ask if you wanted to join me. I have an appointment with her."  
Mara shielded her worry when Luke closed his eyes. He'd been fatiguing easily, of late. She suspected he was ill.  
"When?" he asked weariedly.  
Cal grinned. "Come to think of it, now."  
Her husband nodded slowly. "All right. Coming, Mara?"  
As if she was leaving him by himself! She shrugged carelessly. "I'm sure Threepio won't mind watching Ben a while longer."  
A smile broke onto Luke's face, then. "Let's go."  
  
Entering Senator Whitesun's suite, Luke Skywalker had to work to keep himself from staring.  
Even Mara seemed repulsed, staying close to his arm. His mind swirled, trying vainly to link the elaborately dressed young Senator with _this_—  
Paint peeled from the pale yellow walls, revealing at least two differently-colored previous coats underneath. A musty odor arose from the moist brown carpeting, making him want to sneeze. Pieces, even, were missing from the rotting walls and ceiling, where beetle colonies swarmed…  
The short hall ended with a bare larger room, the sight in which made him draw short.  
Misti Whitesun, grimy from toe to pate, kneeled beside an open astromech droid, wearing a ragged used-to-be blue flight suit. A scowl on her face, her brown-green eyes narrowed intently on the small component she twisted this way and that in her hands, as if expecting that to help.  
With a drooping sigh, the petite Senator shook her head, tossing the piece aside—and caught a sidelong glimpse of her visitors.  
She stood easily in a single fluid motion, without making use of her hands. A guarded smile on her lips, her intelligently bright gaze revealed nothing. "Hi."  
"Hi." Mara seemed to be the only one with command of her voice. "What are you doing _here_?"  
A smile flashed through those otherwise expressionless eyes. "Are you always that brusque, Mistress Skywalker?" The tug to her lips alerted them she wasn't finished. "Because I like it."  
"You didn't answer, though," Luke pointed out.  
A seemingly genuine quirk came to the pallid lips. She shrugged, a hydrospanner in hand. "Shoot me, Skywalker. Your wife didn't answer, either." Senator Whitesun pocketed the tool, and while the humored quirk remained, Luke got the impression of being shrewdly perused.  
"Yes, I'm that blunt," Mara spoke up. "What in the galaxy is a Senator doing in this trash heap?"  
A cloud passed over Whitesun's features, and when it had passed she was back to her guarded, unrevealing self. "Tatooine's legal constituents are poor. Much of my funding goes to appropriate fabric for senatorial garments."  
"You make your own clothes?" Luke didn't think he'd seen Cal that surprised, before. The Chief of State looked as if he would choke on the moldy air.  
"Yes."  
Luke noticed Mara frown, shooting Whitesun a measuring glance. "That's one way to end a discussion."  
She shrugged. "It works." The greenish brown eyes seemed to quickly take in the room. "Why don't we go to dinner?" she suggested. "My funds may be slight, but I can still treat honored guests such as yourselves to a decent meal."  
Cal stiffened. "Forgive me, Whitesun, but I just remembered an important meeting. Another time, perhaps?"  
Luke thought he detected a mischievous twinkle in the brown of Whitesun's eye. "An appointment would be nice. My office is more fit for such meetings."  
The Skywalkers eyed their friend. He reddened. "Hey, I'm a politician! I can't tell the truth!"  
"Maybe not." Senator Misti Whitesun's icy tone indicated how serious she took that statement. "But you _can_ choose not to lie."  
Cal looked at her oddly, still joking. "But then I'd be telling the truth!"  
She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Would you?"  
  
"I apologize for catching you off guard like that," Luke said over his stew. "Cal said he had an appointment."  
Now wearing a gauzy golden gown, Senator Whitesun waved a fabric-draped arm. "Think nothing of it. A formerly unknown politician with my speechmaking skills? _I_'d be dubious, in your position."  
She was sharp, Mara granted. But why so guarded? "You supported the proposal. Does that mean the Jedi can count on your further support?"  
Misti Whitesun seemed mildly surprised at the question. "You're the last person I'd expect that question from, Mistress Skywalker."  
Luke's brow creased. "Why?"  
"Your wife was the Emperor's Hand," she said matter-of-factly. "Even the Emperor did not trust all his closest servants, though they apparently followed the same tenets as he." Mara's eyes narrowed as she detected a mild grimace. "Darth Vader was only one of many suspected, I'm sure.  
"By the same principle, trusting an entire group that _supposedly_ believes the same thing is a hazard. Individual analysis is a necessity." Delicate fingers encircled the glass she swirled. "Forgive me if my analogy was inappropriate, Skywalker. I understand what a painful subject that must be for you."  
Mara raised her brow. "You 'understand'?"  
Again, Mara thought she saw the Senator wince. Staring somberly at the whirling liquid in her glass, Whitesun took a sip. "I, too, have had… horrifying family revelations." Her voice tightened on those last three words.  
The Senator swallowed, face immediately bereft of expression. "Everyone makes mistakes," she said softly.  
Forlornly.  
"Even you?" Mara asked, ignoring Luke's scowl at her coldness.  
"_Especially_ me." The words came out in such a murmur that Mara could only hear them with the Force, and she was closest to the woman. Luke, she was certain, had missed them.  
"Mara, can we talk?"  
Senator Misti Whitesun stood abruptly.  
"Oh, no," Luke quickly corrected. "We'll—"  
"Two of you, one of me. Easier for one to move than two." The Senator politely strode to well out of earshot.  
Mara watched her with narrowed eyes as Luke's grip tightened on her arm. "You _will_ drop that."  
She turned sour. "Luke—"  
"We don't need to know what _it_ was. Chances are, we already do."  
Mara glowered at her husband. "We do?" she asked tightly.  
Luke sighed, glancing around. "Senator _Whitesun_, Mara." His blue eyes were worn with sadness. "Whitesun was my aunt's maiden name."  
Mara felt Luke note her surprise as he waved the young woman back over. Senator Whitesun strode with a smooth glide, her sheer golden gown making her almost appear to float.  
Luke's aunt had been a Whitesun?  
No wonder the woman'd flinched before mentioning Darth Vader.  
"Back to the matter of your support," she made herself continue. "You'll play by ear?"  
"More by careful consideration, but yes." All humor had evaporated from the young Senator.  
Luke nodded. "Wise answer."  
"Is it?" she asked bluntly. "Sounds more arrogant to me."  
"You're the one who said it," Mara pointed out.  
"Does that make me infallible?"  
Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker found herself staring at the Senator. What in the galaxy was this woman up to?  
Luke, too, seemed put off by the woman's deliberate undermining of what she herself said. "Perhaps if you met the Jedi Council members, you could better decide if you trust their decisions."  
Once more regarding her glass, Whitesun nodded deliberately. "I trust very few, if any, in _all_ their decisions, Skywalker. But your suggestion seems sound."  
"It's Luke." Mara shot him a sharp glance and found him as surprised by his statement as she was.  
Senator Misti Whitesun didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, her gaze unmoving from her drink as she took a measured sip. "No," she said firmly. Had her voice quivered? "I'll stick to Skywalker."

* * *

Author's Note: (This A/N the beginning & end of each chapter is annoying, I know.)  
Review, _please_! …You _do_ know I'll return the favor, right? & they _really _encourage me!  
Any reviews guessing where I'm headed or just what this story is all about, anyway will be _greatly_ appreciated. (As my friends put it, it's freaky, but it fits. Oh, and when you do figure it out, this idea came before I'd even heard of the books that use it on a much smaller level.) 


	3. Two

Author's Note:  
If no one suspects what's going on after this chapter, I'll be thoroughly disappointed.  
Enjoy! :)

Chapter Two

She laughed the most merrily that she could remember.  
A grimy Valin grinned at her, playfully punching her arm. "Well, that'll teach me to trust you!" She laughed some more.  
Some of the children were having a mud fight and had decided to get the two young adult Jedi Knights. Tahiri had deflected hers with the Force.  
She'd forgotten about Valin.  
—Not that she'd forgotten he was there. She'd just expected him to deflect _his_ incoming, too.  
Therein lay the problem.  
Valin's family didn't have telekinetic abilities.  
While she was completely dry and dirt-free, Valin Horn had received a few good mud pies.  
Tahiri giggled. "You're a mess!"  
He reached over, tucking a blonde tress behind her ear. "And you," he said frankly, "are beautiful.  
Even though sleeping, Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila sighed dreamily, relishing the memory. After years of pain and guilt over her first love's death, she had recovered. And now she'd found someone to share that with…  
She felt Valin's lips against hers, feeling pleasantly warm inside. It was different than her feelings for her first love, Anakin, but still…  
She returned his kiss slowly, not letting her memory of Anakin ruin _this_…  
…Their lips finally parted. She pulled away gently—  
Valin grabbed her arm.  
Tahiri shifted in her sleep, recognizing a shift from memory. Fear rose in her, fear that—  
Her eyelids fluttered open. "Valin—"  
Anakin's anguished face was but a hairsbreadth from hers, where Valin's should've been. They huddled in the freezing locker where they'd shared their first kiss…  
"Tahiri!" he said forcefully, determinedly shaking her arm. "It's _me_!"  
"Go away," she whispered brokenly. Her voice rose to a near shriek. "You're _dead_, Anakin! Please! Why do you haunt me, again?!"  
"But I'm _here_, Tahiri! I'm _back_!"  
Tahiri abruptly woke, gasping and trembling. She found herself sitting in bed, her heart pounding against her chest and her breathing probably erratic enough to set off an alarm, were she in a med center.  
Letting herself fall back, Tahiri groaned. She hadn't dreamt about Anakin for years! And for it all to be coming back… And _now_, of all times…  
Well, it hadn't exactly _returned_. This time had been different. Still quivering, she tentatively reached inside herself, recovering the dream; reexamining it, as much as that wrenched her to pieces. She loved Valin.  
But she'd felt so much _more _for Anakin.  
Her breath caught. What had the dream Anakin said? That he wasn't dead anymore?  
Tahiri squeezed her eyes shut, preventing any more than a few tears to ease through.  
She groaned again, knowing herself too well. No matter what her mind rebuked her with, her heart was going to hold on to that imaginary hope… now that she'd been so rudely flung back into her old guilt.  
Tahiri pulled the covers over her head, wishing she could wipe all memory of the dream from her mind. But she couldn't, and that meant—  
She was going to call off their engagement.  
Resigning herself to a life ruined by a lost love, she didn't let herself weep. It was her own stupid fault, anyway. She didn't _want_ herself to foolishly believe Anakin was back from the dead—that was impossible.  
But the part of Tahiri that belonged to Anakin, the part forever stamped with their meld, wouldn't let her destroy that delusioned hope.  
Clenching her fist and teeth, Tahiri fought back the tears. "_Why_, Anakin?" she whispered painfully into the darkness. "Why must you haunt me?"  
The door creaked as it opened, a flickering candle held behind a cupped hand. Tahiri winced upon seeing the Mon Calamari girl submit herself to possibly hazardous loss of moisture just to check upon _her_.  
"Master Jedi?" the too-petite female called softly. Tahiri couldn't tell if she were an older child or a teenager and had given up wondering why the Mon Calamari called her what she did.  
Making sure her face was dry, Tahiri poked her head out of the covers, squinting from the candlelight. She'd found the emaciated female on the street. Sensing the Mon Calamari's gentle spirit, she'd offered to take her in.  
She never had figured out how the Mon Calamari'd learned she was a Jedi. Traveling incognito, her mission was to gather evidence concerning the rumored slavery on Telos, then report her findings to the Jedi Council, which would advise the Senate. Both bodies were on Mon Calamari.  
Thankfully, the female was not only kind but shrewd. She'd give a puzzled glance if asked her name, but by pretending to be Tahiri's property, the mission was going a whole lot easier. With how gaunt the Mon Calamari was, it was very easy to believe her a slave.  
Tahiri wouldn't've minded letting people think that she owned the Mon Calamari, but for one thing.  
The female came closer, her steps more of a glide than a walk. Tahiri still wasn't completely sure that the Mon Calamari wasn't Force-sensitive, despite the female's mere quiver of presence in the Force.  
"Master Jedi?" she asked again, raising her candle so she could see Tahiri's face—  
She suppressed a grimace. Crisscrossing the Mon Calamari's forearms were slash scars. To the unknowing observer, it appeared Tahiri had tortured her slave.  
Absentmindedly, Tahiri rubbed her arms' own faded scars, very similar to the Mon Calamari's. "You all right?" She found it easier to deal with the female's concern by flipping the tables.  
The female paused. "You had a nightmare."  
Tahiri blinked. That was the most direct personal statement the Mon Calamari had ever made to her.  
Then the import hit her. "Sorry. Did I wake you up?"  
Something bright passed through the Mon Calamari's large, sadly worried eyes, then vanished. "What did you dream?"  
_ Isn't it odd_, Tahiri thought, _how she always knows precisely what's worth uncovering?_  
She decided to try once more to shunt the female's concern aside. "What's your name?"  
Tahiri sighed inwardly as she again received the puzzled look. Standing motionlessly, the Mon Calamari didn't respond for a long moment, during which the bright whatever flashed again in her eyes.  
"All right," the female said quietly, gently placing the candle on Tahiri's bedstand and sitting, barely making an indentation on the edge of her bed. "I'll tell you my name… if you'll tell me your dream."  
Tahiri's stomach dropped, face pale, at the thought of sharing such personal information in exchange for—  
She stopped, examining the female closely. The Mon Calamari understood what she was asking for, Tahiri saw.  
_ I'm sorry_, those watery eyes seemed to say. _But I will not hurt you. I only need this so you do not hurt me._  
Tahiri drew a forcibly calm breath. "All right," she said with a firmness she didn't feel. "But you first."  
She held her chin up, meeting the Mon Calamari's own examination. She knew demanding to go second gave her the upper hand, but the dream was too excruciating to risk being ripped off.  
The female nodded slowly. "Your nightmare hurts you, Master Jedi. More than I first thought. I will give you more than my name, but you must tell me the _entire_ dream."  
_ More_ than the Mon Calamari's name? "Uh… okay."  
"_All_ of it."  
Tahiri nodded mutely, trying to read the female's big watery eyes. What _was_ that? _Something_, some secret, dwelt in there… something agonizing.  
The Mon Calamari sighed, sounding as a breeze's echo. "My name is Eerin Bant." She held a forearm in the flickering candlelight so Tahiri could see the many scars plainly. She winced, only now realizing they were of different ages…  
Bant's voice was hushed. "These scars…" Tahiri glanced from the arm to the face; and returned to the arm, seeing a tear forming in the Mon Calamari's eye.  
When Bant spoke again, her voice was stronger. "These cuts are self-inflicted. I was—still am—suicidal. An adult, my abnormally small size is due to malnourishment—I am never hungry. I suspect I suffer from clinical depression."  
The woman offered the slight ghost of a smile that was what so many people considered a smile after the Yuuzhan Vong war—  
_ No_, Tahiri firmly directed herself. _Can't think about that_. And truly, she couldn't. Anakin had died in that war.  
Their mutual affection had developed during that war.  
Bant seemed to guess what was bothering Tahiri and dropped the ghost smile. "Is there something else you want to know?"  
The Jedi Knight opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out for a second or two. Bant was offering much more information than Tahiri'd expected from the Mon Calamari's weeks-long silence on herself.  
"Why are you suicidal? —What makes you?"  
A barely noticeable wince traveled the—the _woman_, as little as the scrawny Mon Calamari was. Bant lowered her head, her finger tracing the marks on her left forearm. "I love him," she murmured, a few tears landing in her lap.  
"Who?" Tahiri bit her lip, realizing that question probably sounded heartless. Her voice softened, once again reminded of her Anakin. "I mean, what's wrong with that?"  
"Well, he's Human." Bant's voice had a sardonic edge Tahiri had never heard, before. "But that's not the worst of it." Bant's already hunched shoulders drooped even lower, till the Mon Calamari's back was even with Tahiri's bosom.  
She turned her bowed head to face Tahiri, the unshed tears still glimmering in the candlelight. "We… We're part of this group. …Were raised, schooled together. Always the best of friends." She paused, drawing a shuddering breath. Tahiri knew exactly how the other woman felt. Bant's words were piercing old wounds she'd thought had already healed.  
"Somewhere, I don't know how, my feelings for him began to change." The upcoming admission seemed the hardest for Bant to say. It came out in a scarcely audible whisper. "That was forbidden."  
Tahiri couldn't really process that. "You were forbidden to fall in love with him?"  
Bant nodded remorsefully, tears beginning to drip from her eyes. "Attachment is forbidden. He'll _never_ love me—not like that."  
"You don't know—" Tahiri tried to console the Mon Calamari, but she would have none of it.  
"Oh, but I do," she murmured. "I know him so well. Better than he knows himself, sometimes. So well I know his knowing that I love him would distress him, for he cannot—_can_ not—return my feelings. If it ever comes to a choice between him knowing and myself dying, I know which it must be."  
"_Bant_." Tahiri leaned forward, arms wide.  
The Mon Calamari surrendered, crying in Tahiri Veila's embrace.  
She drew a shaking breath, realizing just how far from over her own recovery truly was. "Let me tell you about my dream. During the Yuuzhan Vong war, I deeply loved my closest friend, and he loved me…"  
As Tahiri provided the background to, and then actually recalled, the nightmare, she could not believe her voice was so steady, even if it was weighted with sadness.  
Her heart wrenched with every word. Fear struck Tahiri. Could she _ever_ recover from—from _this_?

Author's Note:  
Guesses, anyone? Thoughts? Insults?  
(I honestly don't mind negative reviews, as long as you can express yourself w/out vulgarities.)  
Next chapter will come upon this one's reviewing. _Not_ before. & I take anonymous reviews. You're welcome.  
What is it about writing these things that gets me excited? I mean, I know _I_ enjoy reading A/N's, but who else does?  
;)  



	4. Three

Author's Note:

Oh, how rude of me! I've been forgetting something!  
Thank you Rose-Arwen-Padmé for getting me to post Chapter One. Thank you Princess-Kinky for the same for Chapter Two, and thank you Falcona SkyWolf for the same for Chapter Three & the first diary entry.  
Oh, and Miss SkyWolf, if you're still reading, see the last part of the "Author's Note" at the bottom. And if I may ask… What's OB1? [smiles sheepishly]) You can include it in your upbraiding of the diary entry after this chapter.  
It seems this story is more popular than my others…  
Enjoy! :)

Chapter Three  
  
"Luke!" She swatted him. "C'mon, farmboy! Wake up!"  
Her husband groaned, rolling away from her. "_Ben_…"  
Mara recognized that tone. "Kenobi died _decades_ ago! Snap out of it!"  
Luke curled up as if someone had landed a blow to his stomach. "Leave her alone…"  
Mara Jade Skywalker grabbed her Jedi Master husband and violently shook him. "_Luke_!"  
He still didn't wake up. Now, though, he seemed to be talking to someone. His brow was furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"  
She slapped him.  
"Senator who?"  
She hissed.  
"Wh—wh—_what_?!" Luke shot up, bewildered. He saw her and sighed resignedly. "Sorry, Mara." He pulled on his overgarments.  
She scowled at him. "Next time you do that I'll dump you off the bed!"  
"You saw it?" He was mildly surprised, but sighed again. "That'll be tomorrow morning, then." Looking as if he hadn't slept all night, he rubbed his eyes.  
"What the—" she bit her tongue "—are you talking about?"  
Luke shook his head slowly as she followed him out in the hall. "I've been having these dreams for over a week, now, Mara. I didn't tell you because I thought they'd get better." He smiled wanly. "They've worsened."  
Their kitchen comm beeped. Mara slapped it. "What?"  
"Masters Skywalker, please report to the war room immediately." Chief of State Cal Omas hesitated. "It regards Yuuzhan Vong."  
The comm switched off, and both Jedi Masters stared at each other. "Just when it's all over…" Murmuring, Luke closed his eyes. He abruptly opened them. "Well, what are we waiting for?"  
  
Jedi Master Kyp Durron caught sight of the new senator as he entered the cafeteria, breakfast tray in hand. Getting an idea of what she was like would probably be a smart move.  
He went over to her. "May I sit here?" He gestured to the open seat beside her. Actually, all the seats around her were free. He wondered if there was a reason for it.  
She glanced up at him, looking like she hadn't slept all night. "If you'd like," she said resignedly, leaning back to watch him as he sat.  
_ Odd,_ he thought. _As if she doesn't trust me._ "I thought you supported the Jedi, Sentator."  
The blonde's pale lips pursed. "I supported a single move benefiting the Jedi. Nothing more."  
He frowned, eyeing her. Her hand quivered as she sipped her stim-tea. "Are you ill, Senator?"  
Senator Whitesun froze, then slowly put her cup down, staring straight ahead. "Why does everyone always ask me that?" She flexed her right hand.  
Kyp nearly choked on his juice. _Six fingers!_ She glanced at him sharply and he contained it.  
"Yes, Master Durron. I'm a freak. Thank you for reminder." She stood and gathered her things.  
"There's no need to do that—we've just met!"  
"On the contrary, Master Durron, there is every need." Her arm shook from fatigue, nearly dropping her tray.  
He deftly took it from her before she could protest. "You haven't been sleeping well, I see."  
Her brown-green gaze watched him, face completely blank—so blank that he knew she must be hiding something.  
"You try sleeping when the Hutts have your friends."  
Leaving him with her tray in his hands, she left.  
  
Cal Omas met them immediately. "The Star Destroyer _Executioner_ ran into a group of Yuuzhan Vong ships two nights ago. It was poorly armed, with only a few TIE's."  
He led them to a monitor. The _Executioner_ looked pretty good for having singlehandedly faced down Yuuzhan Vong, to Luke's eye.  
The Chief of State turned and faced them. "During the battle, a transmission reached the system from Senator Whitesun. The coralskippers retreated and left the system."  
Luke heard Mara hiss in surprise. "Are you saying, Omas, that a group of _Yuuzhan Vong_ turned tail and _fled_ from battle?"  
"The _Executioner_ received warning immediately prior to the attack. The attackers were definitely Yuuzhan Vong."  
"I thought Yuuzhan Vong never left a fight?"  
The three of them turned to a young man, his blue eyes piercing, his brown hair and beard showing blonde at the roots. His brown pilot's garb was well-worn.  
"How'd you get in here?" snapped the Chief of State.  
The young man's lips tweaked. He looked burdened by his past—as all did, these days.  
"_I_ brought him, Chief of State." Lando Calrissian slapped the man on the back. "Meet Dan Stanley. He's as good as Jaina."  
Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker raised her red eyebrows skeptically. "Oh, you are, are you?"  
Stanley smiled weakly and shrugged, immensely embarrassed.  
"That's from _me_, Mara." Lando mock punched Stanley's arm. "He won't say a thing about his piloting skills, except that they've gotten him in trouble, though he won't say what _kind_ of trouble…"  
"Pride comes before a fall," Stanley said quietly, struggling to keep his emotions under reign. Luke realized this man was haunted by what _he'd_ done, not by anything others had done to him.  
He opened his mouth, but Dan Stanley looked right at him and said, "You could put that in your Jedi Code: Pride leads to fear, fear leads to anger, anger leads to _hate_… and _suffering_…"  
"Aw, how sweet! Little slaveboy's finally got the Code right…"  
Stanley's blue eyes flashed gray, and he clenched his fist. "Shut up."  
A petite brunette with very dark eyes and gray-streaked hair stalked up to him, wearing smuggler's clothing. "And just why—"  
Dan Stanley slapped the comm next to him. "Would Jedi Master Kyp Durron—"  
The young-faced woman lunged at Stanley's back, muffling the rest with her arm. Her eyes flashed. "Don't you dare pull that one on me, _Stanley_!" she demanded. "I have a lot more ammo on you!"  
"At least _I_ don't get kidnapped by loonies!"  
She still clung to his back like a madwoman, but her controlled voice revealed that she was not anywhere near insane. "At least _I_ didn't attack my son!"  
"No, his brother did!"  
"And who cut off yours' hand, I wonder?" Even Luke could hear the woman's mockery.  
Dan Stanley flung her off into the far wall, face contorted into a mixture of anger and denial. He started after her, but stopped abruptly. He swallowed hard, and slowly took his gaze to Luke.  
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker felt cold. He'd felt the Force in Stanley's throwing of the woman. …He'd _recognized_ its owner.  
And Luke Skywalker knew.  
  
"Oh."  
Senator Misti Whitesun glanced sheepishly around the hospital room, a datapad in hand. "Oh," she repeated, sounding abashed. "This isn't good. Um…"  
Leia Organa-Solo had never before seen Tatooine's new senator disconcerted, though she did look like she hadn't had a decent night's sleep in days. "Lost?"  
"Sort of." Whitesun poked at her datapad, which beeped and squawked in return. "How's Solo?"  
"Han?" Leia smiled at her husband's prone frame. "Much better." He'd gone down with his ship, as Luke put it. Ever since the _Millennium Falcon_ had been irreparable, Han had been constant prey to fevers and viruses and… Oh, everything.  
"_Falcon_ still down?"  
Leia sighed, only now wondering why she was having this conversation with a politician. It felt _right_, though. "She'll never fly, again."  
Whitesun's silence showed that the woman understood. "…I lost a ship," she said finally. "Astromech droid, too. Quite a few of them, actually. It's hard to get used to."  
"You have?"  
Leia realized how confusing that must've sounded as Whitesun shrugged. "I've come to appreciate that at least they aren't people."  
She looked at the Senator as a person, then. "That's one way to think of it."  
"It's that or let guilt and worry wrack me. I have enough concerns without adding unnecessary ones."  
Leia nodded, squeezing Han's thankfully warm hand. It had been hot too often, of late. "You should have a talk with Han."  
"He'll have to be awake for that, won't he?"  
She shot Whitesun a sharp glance, surprised by her playful smile.  
"You may not want that, though," the young woman seriously continued. "I've been told I don't worry enough about my own safety." A quirk tugged her lips. "I get the feeling that isn't the kind of thing Solo needs help with."  
"No," Leia chuckled. "It isn't."  
Misti Whitesun's datapad shrilled. A flick of her wrist had it up and secure in her palm. Her professional smile returned, although relief dulled it. "Excuse me, Mistress Solo."  
Leia returned the official sternness. "Good day, Senator."  
"Good day."  
She checked her husband's bioreadings. He wouldn't be waking up till later. Leia settled herself in for a nap.  
  
Author's Note:  
So… Who has Luke recognized?  
Who's the woman that drives Dan Stanley to throw her?  
(Hints are contained in the chapter, but I won't list them. You'll just have to make the connections yourself.)  
Next thing isn't a chapter, it's a diary entry. A very short diary entry with a _big_ hint!


	5. Diary Entry 1

> > > DIARY ENTRY 1  


I am Tayun domain Kwaad.  
I was—am—also Nashira, Nonni, M—  
You thought I'd tell that last one, didn't you?  
I was someone else, once. Me.  
I don't let myself remember her name. I know only her pain.  
Her nightmares.  
  
Author's Note:  
So… Whose diary is this? Or does it belong to someone who hasn't been revealed yet? (Why do I get the feeling you're going to make another connection here, Miss SkyWolf?)  
Next chapter will come when I get a review.  
:) 


	6. Four

Author's Note:  
Yes, I am aware Tahiri is acting like she did pre-Riina. This is _intentional_ and shall (hopefully) be explained later.  
I really like the bubbly Tahiri, though, so let's just say this is where her messes begin.  
It's been awhile since I've read any Star Wars books, so if I make people sound different from how they should sound, flag me on it, please.  
Thank you, Falcona Skywolf, for your review, and about your guess… I think you're trying too hard. You might want to look at Part 1's name, again.  
As always, enjoy! :)

Chapter Four  
  
"Perfect."  
"Will you stop saying that?" she cried, exasperated, trying to control her vessel's stomach-twisting spin. A pirate had just blasted their starboard stabilizers.  
Bant's large watery eyes looked at her frankly. "Would you like me to try?" the still too-scrawny Mon Calamari asked mildly.  
Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila glared at her uncooperative controls. "Fine," she said tightly, quickly switching places with her new friend in the tiny cockpit. "Just don't fry us."  
"Gladly," Bant said dryly.  
Struggling to buckle her safety harness, Tahiri found herself angry with Anakin. Why the Sith had he been so determined to let himself die? _He_'d be able to get out of this!  
Somehow, Eerin Bant managed to regain control of the vessel, aiming directly back for Telos.  
"Uh… Bant?"  
The Mon Calamari was pouring everything they had into accelerating. They were going to skim the atmosphere, Tahiri now saw, but that didn't make her feel any better.  
"Bant?"  
"Cap your anger or shut up. I can't ignore both."  
The Jedi Knight blinked. Was she that mad? She hadn't realized she'd been yelling at her friend, but now she guessed she had.  
Tahiri swallowed. Apologies could wait. "Why are you taking us _towards_ their reinforcements?"  
"I'm not." The Mon Calamari spoke distractedly, her focus on her task.  
Bant took the small vessel in a slingshot around Telos, missing the space station and having a clear route to hyperspace. Activating the hyperdrive, the Mon Calamari leaned back, relaxing.  
She flashed Tahiri a smile. "We went _past_."

• • •

"You never told me you could pilot."  
Bant guided the damaged ship into a hangar on Mon Calamari. "You never asked."  
Tahiri opened the door in time to smack into Jedi Knight Jacen Solo. She bit her lip.  
He smelled just like Anakin.  
"Hi, Tahiri." Jacen offered a hand to help her back up. "I heard you had a little excitement."  
The Jedi Knight shot a glance back at her new friend. The Mon Calamari stood. "No bodily harm done, but the vessel needs repair."  
Jacen raised a questioning eyebrow at Tahiri.  
"I'm her cover," Bant offered first. "It's much easier to find a slave market if you own one."  
Tahiri felt her face crimson. "I don't _really_ own her…"  
"Of course not," the Mon Calamari soothed. She made a little gasping noise, catching Tahiri and Jacen's attention.  
"Water," she explained tightly. "I'm dangerously low."  


"Well, why didn't you say anything?" Tahiri reached forward—  
Bant deftly avoided her, striding unevenly down the ramp. She coughed, raising a hand. "Excuse—_kh_, _kh_!"  
Jacen caught her as she stumbled. "Here." He handed the Mon Calamari's arm to Tahiri. "I'll be right back." The older Jedi left quickly.  
_ At my age he was a Yuuzhan Vong slave._ Tahiri shuddered. _If it weren't for Anakin, I'd still be a Yuuzhan Vong pet._ She'd been younger than the heroic Anakin when they'd gotten her, implanting memories, trying to turn her into one of them. Thirteen, fourteen… whatever. The battle to get rid of the Riina Kwaad within Tahiri had lasted far longer—and even that hadn't worked. They'd been forced to meld.  
Tahiri felt the Mon Calamari's arm tense beneath her hand. "Bant?"  
"Uh-oh," the woman murmured.  
"What?" The nineteen-year-old Jedi Knight struggled to keep the worry from her voice.  
Eerin Bant didn't reply, resignedly bowing her head.  
Suddenly, Tahiri felt numbness grab her side. She glanced down. _Dart!_ Brushing it off, she reached out with the Force to let her blood carry out whatever she'd been injected with—  
Spheres rolled up, unraveling and cocking their weapons at her and her friend. Some sort of battle droid.  
A young man stepped in front of the droids, average height with nearly white blond hair. His blue eyes showed no hint of deception, only malice.  
Tahiri brushed a blonde bang from her face, bent elbow cradling Bant's arm. Her other hand cautiously reached for her lightsaber—  
With a surge of the Force it flew from her belt into the young man's hand. He came forward until he was mere centimeters from the Mon Calamari.  
"Eerin Bant."  
Bant blinked groggily, the lack of oxygen getting to her head. "Bruck Chun," she said softly. She slumped to the floor.  
Chun frowned. "_Tsk_, _tsk_. Think you're leaving us that easy?" At his fingers' snap a spindly Human-shaped droid guided a repulsorlift forward, a tank of water on top.  
Again, the Force went out from Chun, lifting the Mon Calamari and dropping her in. He grinned with a sneer. "That'll take care of fish girl."  
He turned to face Tahiri. His blue eyes ran over her slowly, turning into a leer. "And now for the pretty lady."  
Tahiri paled.  
Chun's sneering grin grew even wider. "Come along, _Jedi_." Twisting her arm, he whirled her in front of him, holding her own blade ignited at her back.  
Keeping her arm painfully twisted, he shoved her forward.  
Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila searched her memory, trying to figure out what she'd done wrong, this time…  
  
"Hey, kid. What's the rush?"  
"Oh hey, Lando. Tahiri's brought a Mon Calamari," Jacen said hurriedly. "She's low on water."  
Lando Calrissian nodded. "Ship damaged?"  
"Yep."  
Lando was more than willing to let his friend's son hurry away. As amphibians, Mon Calamari needed their skin moist to breathe. They could also last a good while under water, although it was possible for them to drown. He imagined it must be frustrating for the few of that species who didn't live on Mon Calamari.  
Almost before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached a specific hangar address. As he'd expected, Dan Stanley was tinkering with his ship, again.  
"Hey, kid!"  
He heard the chortle that always came from Stanley whenever he said that. The young man hauled himelf out from his ship's innards, lips still quirked. "I'm older than I look, you know."  
Lando grinned. "So am I."  
Stanley smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, I'm _way_ older than I look."  
He laughed. "What are you, seventy-five?"  
"Around that, yeah."  
Lando Calrissian gave Stanley a long stare. The boy's slight quirk didn't waver, but neither did the rest of him. He laughed again. "Good one, kid!"  
He abruptly regained control of himself. Time for business. "I've been thinking about trying to get you into piloting."  
Stanley nonchalantly cleaned a small ship component. That was the frustrating thing about the kid—you never knew how he felt unless you happened to make him angry. And _that_ emotion wasn't fun to watch.  
"Oh?"  
"You'd be better off getting acknowledged in some circles first. A Jedi ship needs repairs. It won't pay much, but it'll be a good start."  
Dan Stanley smiled as if privately amused. "Who's the Jedi?"  
He hesitated. Common sense, though, overrode his habit as he replied, "Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila. She's a good friend of the Solo's."  
Stanley's face could've been frozen in place. "Sounds good," he said carelessly. "I'll take a look at it."  
"Thought you would." He nodded to the young man. "See you around."  
"See you."  
  
The instant Calrissian was out of sight, Dan Stanley threw the rag and component to the side, taking off down the hall to a comm station.  
He frantically typed in an address, blue eyes wildly darting around.  
No one answered.  
Dan Stanley groaned, covering his face with his hands as he slumped against the wall.  
"Oh, _no_…"  
  
She tested her bonds, wincing. Bruck Chun had tied the cords tight. She'd been stuck in a small closet just big enough so she could lie down in either direction.  
Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila sent a cautious Force probe, checking for Force-users nearby. There were none.  
The room lurched in the familiar entering of hyperspace. She unloosed her bonds with the Force, letting the cord fall to the floor. Tahiri massaged her aching wrists.  
Hours passed, and still no one came. Tahiri Veila, by now familiar with every particle of dust in her room, sat against the wall, leaning with her head in the crook of her arm. She fell asleep…  


• • •

Voices came her way. She woke abruptly, feeling Bruck Chun's Force energy check hers. She was in another cell, a smaller one, she noticed.  
Tahiri did her best to look meek as he entered. Thankfully, she could still pass for a mature-looking younger teen, though her forehead's three white vertical scars made that somewhat difficult.  
Chun eyed her keenly as he sealed the door. "Who are you?"  
"M—_me_?" Tahiri squeaked, hoping Chun'd leave her alone if she sounded young enough.  
Well, if he _did_ try anything, it would at least give her an edge.  
The man hesitated. His blue eyes became surprisingly kind as he squatted beside her. She edged away till her back found the wall.  
He remained where he was. "How long have you known Bant?"  
The Jedi Knight shrugged tensely. "I dunno… A month? Two?"  
Chun nodded slowly. "Has she ever mentioned an Obi-Wan Kenobi?"  
"_Who_??!!" Tahiri couldn't keep her frightened façade on that one. She stared. All Jedi had heard of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker's first instructor and his father's own teacher.  
"You're familiar with the name?"  
"Who isn't?" she asked. "General Kenobi was a major hero of the Clone Wars."  
"_General_ Kenobi? _General_…" Chun seemed to muse on that. A malicious flare jumped to his eye, an evil quirk to his lips.  
He grabbed her arm. "Come along, Jedi."  
Before she could respond he was half carrying her down a dank hallway to a large open room.  
Tahiri cried out, pulling free of Bruck Chun's grasp and dashing forward. "_Bant_!"  
The Mon Calamari's eyes fluttered open and closed. "Master Jedi…" she breathed as Tahiri took the small woman in her Force-freed arms. Blood crusted against Bant's wet skin, a gash still seeping on her forehead.  
Tahiri tore a strip from her Jedi tunic, bandaging the wound.  
Chun knelt on one knee to the side and behind Tahiri. "Hello, fish girl," he sneered.  
"Hello, traitor," Bant returned hoarsely.  
"At least I have myself." Chun put a hand on Tahiri's shoulder. "_You_ rely on others. This young Jedi. _Oafy_-Wan."  
"In my experience, a bully calls others names because he himself feels deserving of the insult."  
Tahiri stiffened as Chun painfully squeezed her shoulder in his anger. "Funny how you always let Kenobi fight for you."  
"Kenobi?" Bant opened one blood-encrusted eye. "Who's he?"  
Bruck Chun's jaw dropped. "You don't—"  
Tahiri broke free of Chun's vise, twisting about as she called her lightsaber to her hand. As the man blinked, she ignited it and put it millimeters from his neck.  
"We'll go, now. Thanks for the party."  
Chun's eyes narrowed. Glowering at her, he slowly rose to his feet.  
"Into that closet." The Jedi Knight gestured with her blade. Once her former captor was inside, she sealed it, melting the lock. It could be broken, certainly; but it would buy them time.  
Bant was already standing, smiling tiredly. "I'll live," she replied to Tahiri's unasked question. "The cuts are superficial. …Mostly."  
Tahiri didn't let herself think of the implications of her friend's last admission. "Let's move. I was asleep when they moved me. The ship they brought us in is probably nearby."  
"Good thinking." Bant stayed close to Tahiri, wearing an ironic smile.  
Tahiri shot her an odd glance. "What?"  
The Mon Calamari shook her head. "Just wondering what happened to those droidekas."  
"Droidekas?" Even as she asked, her mind made the connection: the rolling battle droids.  
She heard them rolling towards them even now. _Uh-oh._ "Run!" she yelled, pulling Bant along without thinking. Maybe they could get ahead—  
_ Sith and Sithspawn!_ "Neg that." The two friends came to an abrupt halt, surrounded by the droidekas. The Jedi cursed inwardly. The things had shield generators, too!  
"Hm."  
Tahiri watched Bant curiously eye their surroundings. " 'Hm', what?"  
"This is Naboo."  
The Jedi Knight stared sidelong at her friend. "So?"  
Bant turned her head to meet Tahiri's gaze and did the inexplicable.  
She grinned.

Author's Note:  
Who or what is Stanley so worried about?  
And why does Bant grin? Doesn't come for a few more chapters, so keep reviewing!

( Oh, and yes, I know I used both "blond" and "blonde"; for males and females, respectively, though I don't know if that's how it's really supposed to be.)


	7. Five

Author's note:  
Note what Senator Whitesun says to Master Skywalker. _Very_ closely. It's pretty funny if you pick up Luke's misinterpretation.  
I'm trying to avoid Ben Skywalker, since I know I couldn't give the child justice. Just apologizing for shoving him to the sidelines.  
Thank you, Falcona SkyWolf, for your review and affirmation. (And thinking. :)  
Next chapter comes on this one's review, as always.  
Enjoy! :)

Chapter Five

"Master Skywalker to see Senator Whitesun."  
As he waited for admission, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker studied the Tatooinian senator's secretary. The woman was tall, nearing two meters, and well-built with dark honey skin. Her hair glistened in silky mini braids, the dark brown matching her eyes. A Human, he guessed.  
Absentmindedly, he checked her Force energy. Luke blinked, trying again. His Force probe slid off her as if glass!  
Her typing uninterrupted, the woman's lips quirked so slightly that he couldn't tell what emotion they demonstrated. "Back off." Her steely tone made no attempt at pleasantries.  
"I'm sorry," he apologized, wondering how she did that. "That's an interesting trick. I didn't realize other Jedi groups survived the Yuuzhan Vong."  
"Have they?" the secretary asked mildly, reminding him, oddly enough, of Vergere. He'd never trusted the former Jedi of the pre-Empire Order, yet she'd given her life for his niece and nephew. He never had figured out his feelings on that.  
"Master Skywalker to see Senator Whitesun," the secretary repeated into her comm, sounding vaguely annoyed.  
After waiting a few seconds, she stood. Offering a single sharp nod in Luke's direction, she entered her employer's office.  
As the door closed, Luke heard the secretary tongue-lash the room's occupants.  
The woman promptly returned, herding an equally tall man ahead of her. His blue eyes flashed with the humor displayed in his cheerful grin. Brown hair fell to his strongly-filled shoulders.  
He ducked, still grinning, as she swatted at him. "I was winning!" he protested. "Can't a guy play dejorik with his friend's boss every so often?" The man winked at Luke as he complained.  
"Of course," the woman replied tersely. "When that boss is a senator she has duties that interfere with such pleasantries."  
"Oh, go have lunch!" the Senator laughed. "Skywalker's been waiting."  
The secretary gave the same brief nod she'd earlier presented Luke. Her friend bowed. "Again, Your Highness?"  
Whitesun stonily returned his gaze.  
"…Ah, M'lady," he corrected.  
She smiled tightly as she nodded at them to depart. "Greetings, Skywalker." She led the way into her office. "Please. Have a seat."  
After seeing the hovel Tatooine's senator lived in, Luke had been prepared for just about anything. As he'd half expected, the office was like the waiting area; undecorated and efficient. The room itself and its furnishings were plain, more sturdy than rich; yet in spite of it all, Whitesun had somehow managed to arrange her office with understated elegance.  
If the plainness of the room did anything, Luke noted, it made the lovely young Senator shine all the more. It occurred to him prominent women could be courtesans, too. Of course, the Senate's new judiciary would quickly put an end to anything of _that_ sort.  
Controlling every movement, Whitesun deftly put away her dejorik board, folding up the table and placing it to the side. She smiled professionally as she gracefully sat across from him, one hand laying lightly on the metal desk. "Please forgive the wait, Skywalker. My comradely visitors are few and far between."  
Luke smiled in spite of himself. "Even when they're friends with your secretary?"  
Her business smile wavered slightly, but stayed in place. "Even then, I'm afraid. So," she swiftly continued. "What is it? I doubt you came to meet my associates."  
He drew a breath. "You contacted the _Executioner_ when it met the Yuuzhan Vong fleet." The Jedi Master kept his voice calm, stating fact.  
She jumped him to the point. "You wonder if I'm involved with the fleet's sudden retreat." A slight smile lightened her stern official tone. "No."  
Luke nodded slowly. He'd expected that answer. He decided to treat it as if he believed her entirely, since he wasn't picking up any deception through the Force. "The attackers' actions are inexplicable. Intelligence believes an insider contacted them." _You_ was assumed. She was clever enough to pick up on that.  
Senator Whitesun's face was a study in business focus. She also replied as if objective. "That sounds plausible. You Jedi would detect a Yuuzhan Vong, I hear. The inside informant scenario makes the most sense." _So why _did_ you send a transmission to that sector?_ he wanted to ask, but something held him back.  
She frowned thoughtfully. "Could they have been attacked at a major center? Needed to call the fleet for reinforcements?"  
"It's possible," the Jedi Master admitted. "But highly unlikely. Rumor of such a fight would doubtless reach somebody."  
"Not if the attackers were dead," she pointed out.  
"…Yes," he reluctantly agreed, the thought of an entire offensive killed making his stomach churn. "That's true."  
  
Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker scowled at her son.  
"Ben," she sternly repeated for the umpteenth time.  
The five-year-old looked up at her, a model of innocence. "Yes, Mommy?" he asked, his hand still crammed in the bag, crumbs all over his face.  
"Who was the fruit bread for?"  
"Me."  
Mara clenched her fingers and jaw, having to force herself not to knock the darling little brat before her across the room. His being spoiled _was_ her fault, after all.  
It didn't help that Naboo fruit bread was the only thing she could cook without ruining.  
"No," she growled. "It was for Aunt Leia." She fixed him with one of her glaring stares. Within seconds, Ben was fidgety.  
"You," she said in her sweet you're-dead voice, "are staying home."  
"_Wh_—?" Ben began to wail. "I don't wanna!"  
"You are," she continued. "In your room. With Goldie." Her son groaned. He didn't like Threepio.  
"But I wanna see Aunt Leia!" he howled. "_Ow_!" Immediately, his yells quieted into whimpers.  
Mara felt a little guilty for slapping his bottom, but he needed it. She'd tried every discipline in the book, and spanking was the only one that worked.  
Spanking plus other worked even better.  
Unfortunately, it had taken most of Ben's five years for her to realize that.  
"You're staying here," she repeated, "while Mommy and Daddy go see Aunt Leia. Be good, and you can come next time."  
She prodded him into his room. "Behave," she warned, activating Threepio inside the door and locking it.  
Mara smiled to herself. Threepio was so much better with children when he couldn't run for help.  
  
"Thought you were going to fix up Veila's ship?"  
Dan Stanley didn't even glance at him, still circling the _Falcon_, eyeing it. "I did."  
Lando Calrissian laughed. "You don't mean to tell me you're finished already?"  
Stanley looked him straight in the eye, then, face set. "That's what I _said_, wasn't it?"  
"What's the matter?"  
"Huh?" the youth grunted. Lando had seen him before the beard and knew he had to be about Tahiri's age.  
"You're frustrated."  
"Can't find a way on this stupid ship." He kicked it. "I want to take a look at it."  
"See if you can fix it, you mean." Stanley shrugged. Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "That things almost forty years old. Nobody can fix that hunk of junk."  
Stanley turned to him. "You want to bet on that, Calrissian?"  
Lando almost laughed, but stopped on seeing the young man's intense face. He shrugged. _Might as well humor the boy._ "All right. Fifty credits."  
"Five thousand."  
He watched the young man closely. "You can't be serious!"  
Stanley's face was completely devoid of the common quirk. "Try me."  
Lando really hated fleecing kids, but there was nothing he could do about someone who _wanted_ to be swindled out of that much money. "One thousand." A legitimate bet, and the kid should still have legs left after paying it.  
Stanley's sharp blue eyes darted over him, and the boy knew he'd get no higher from him. Dan Stanley nodded sharply.  
"Deal."  
He swiveled on his heel to face the ship, reminding Lando of Imperial stormtroopers.  
"Now get me inside. …Please."  
  
Author's Note:  
Any guesses, yet, on what's going on? 


	8. Six

Author's Note:  
Pretty good, Falcona Skywolf (thanks for putting the pieces together in your review), though I'd ask you to watch your language, please. :) Nothing personal—I'm just the visual learner type who learns from words rather than pictures. Yeah. :)  
Thank you, Princess-Kinky for your review, as well. I do intend to keep going. I read your Ben story—my problem is all my extended family is in another state, and my 'little brother' happens to be bigger than me (I'm 18 _months_ older.) I'm working on spending more time with little ones, though… :)  
WARNING: This chapter has a few things that might discomfit a few of you. I only wrote it because it seemed like a logical reaction on Tahiri's part, and the reasons are given. I think I managed it pretty tactfully; but there's some forewarning in the preceding dialogue, so if you want to be really safe you can skip from the bullets onward and wait for chapter seven, though you'll miss some amusing dialogue.  
Chapter seven will come with the next review.  
Enjoy! :)  
  
Chapter Six  
  
Staring at her grinning friend, Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila wondered—too late, as usual—if Eerin Bant was insane.  
A familiar wave of the Force arose in her—familiar, yet not so. She couldn't recall what it was…  
The Force power shoved from her outward, sending the droidekas clattering.  
"Go!" Bant dove to the side, rolling—  
A green lightsaber blade warmed her nose, deflecting some blaster bolts that had been about to get her. A face she only saw in nightmares appeared in front of her. "Tahiri!" he snapped.  
"_Anakin_?"  
"Later." The blade whirled in his hands as he sent more energy bolts back. Unfortunately, some of the droidekas had already recovered. "C'mon."  
He Force-leapt to a stone bridge above. Dully, she followed.  
The Force wave. They'd linked. But that meant—  
"Ana—"  
They were joined by a tan-skinned young woman, attractive with dark eyes and shoulder-length hair streaked with gray. Her face was too young and the streaks too regular for them to be anything but dyed. She held her yellow blade lightly, but readily. "Good idea."  
"Thanks." Anakin checked over the side banister. "No way to fight through that. We'll have to go around." He pushed off the side, scrambling to the nearby building. He stopped, looking back at the woman. "What?"  
She watched the scene intently. "Got that other lightsaber?"  
Anakin deftly pulled the item from his pack. "Here."  
The woman took it, checked its power supply, then threw it in the midst of a bunch of the spindly humanoid droids.  
"Wh—"  
It ignited, abruptly chopping a few's heads off as the rest flew into a nearby wall. The Mon Calamari wielder came into view. Bant looked at them.  
_Go._  
"Bant!" Tahiri cried. "No!"  
The Anakin look-alike grabbed her arm. "You heard her!"  
"They won't kill her."  
Tahiri tore away from the supposed Anakin, glaring at the woman. "How do you know?" she demanded.  
"In Eerin Bant," the young woman replied coolly, "Chun has probable ensuing capture of all the people he and his Masters want most. That reason enough for you?"  
Without waiting for Tahiri's verbal reply, she calmly scanned outside. "Good. Let's move."  
"Tahiri, this is Barriss Offee." The Anakin Solo look-alike clapped the young woman's shoulder. "She's one of my grandfather's old friends."  
"His only peer friend, actually." Barriss led them down the halls. "He came about a decade late to training and was a loner, so we weren't quite sure what to think of him. I didn't make friends with him until a decade later, when we were on the same mission."  
A grin was on her face. "Ansion. Ask him about it, sometime." She stopped, giving Anakin a mean look. "No, ask him about when he performed to show the natives his inner self." The grin grew wider. "Or when Master Unduli didn't let him finish his watch."  
Barriss continued onward, silent but for her voice. "He'll complain and protest, but it'll be worth the answer."  
She pointed out a nearby window. Across the street was a hangar. "Go on. I've just got here from a furlough on Mon Calamari. Got plenty of energy to run on." She smiled kindly at Tahiri. "Eerin ranks me, dear. She'll be fine."  
The Anakin nudged her, but Tahiri grabbed Barriss's arm. "Wait—if you guys're dead, how can you be alive?" she asked, looking mostly at the Anakin Solo. As much as her mind told her it wasn't him, she _felt_ him, felt whole in the Force…  
Barriss and Anakin exchanged a small smile. "We've debated that since we found ourselves working together. He was looking for you, I was after Master Eerin. Now he has you, and I still need Eerin. Good-bye."  
"But—"  
Tahiri found her protests halted when Anakin hauled her out the window. Even with the Force, they landed hard on his side, her back on his body.  
She gasped, a bit winded. "Good job."  
"Sorry."  
She rolled off him and on her feet. Droids showed up as they darted into the hangar.  
"Which ship?"  
Wordlessly, Anakin nodded towards a piece of junk. Deflecting incoming blaster bolts, they headed up the ramp.  
Tahiri smacked the door panel. She turned to Anakin. "Now what?"  
He smiled tightly, jogging to the cockpit. She followed, sliding in the copilot's seat.  
"I don't think anyone'll come after us, but you shoot if they do." Anakin waved at some controls.  
He was right. Naboo's atmosphere was empty.  
"His target was Eerin. You were extra." He stood as he sent the ship into hyperspace. "Next stop, Mon Calamari."  
Tahiri stayed seated as he headed to the back. "Who are you?"  
The young blond man stopped, looking at her with his earnest blue eyes. He dropped to his knees before her, pained face reminding her of her nightmare. "It's _me_, Tahiri," he said gently, pleadingly. "I'm back."  
"That's impossible," she scoffed. "Anakin Solo's dead. I was at his funeral. I watched his body burn."  
He glanced down. "I've wondered about that, myself. I don't know what's happened. I only know some Jedi and Sith are returning from the dead." His hand hovered over her arm. "Check the Force, Tahiri. You know it's me."  
She squeezed her eyes tight. Yes, the Force told her he was Anakin, but…  
She opened her eyes. "Strip."  
He stared in surprise. "…_What_?"  
Her green eyes narrowed at him. "Once Master Skywalker was tricked into thinking an actor was Kenobi by some Force-mimicking devices. Strip and throw your clothes in the cycler. I'm sure we can find an extra flight suit on this thing."  
True to character, Anakin crimsoned from the shoulders up. "Uh, Tahiri?" he mumbled. "Can't I do that in another room?"  
"No. You could hide something in your new clothes or swallow it, and I'd be none the wiser. Here."  
He looked like he'd refuse.  
"You want me to believe you're Anakin, don't you?"  
"You already know who I am," he muttered, but sighed resignedly as he unfastened his jacket. "Fine."  
Tahiri felt her own face redden. She hadn't expected him to accept. This guy was pretty desperate.  


• • •

He was _really_ desperate. Tahiri felt like her whole body was blushing.  
"Convinced?"  
"You could've left your underwear."  
"You said to strip."  
"Sorry," the Jedi gritted. "I'll go find you something."  
"Thanks." Anakin sat in the pilot's seat, legs crossed. "Could you hurry? This is kind of uncomfortable."  
"Gladly." Out of the cockpit, Tahiri gulped air. If Jacen ever took _that_ memory off of her, she'd kill him. Seeing Anakin naked was not her definition of a good memory.  
Still, kissing him like that might be interesting…  
Tahiri violently shook her head. _How sick is that? And this is my best friend I'm thinking about, here!_  
Rummaging through a locker, Tahiri felt guilty. Valin. She'd sent him an apologetic annulment message after that nightmare, but he hadn't called her, since. _How am I going to explain this to him?_  
"Who says I have to?" she asked herself aloud, finding something of pale gray fabric. She shook it out. Coveralls. Without bothering to refold them, she tucked them under her arm, heading for the cockpit.  
She stopped outside, face away. Blindly opening the door, she stuck the garment in. Tahiri fought the perverse urge to look as Anakin took it from her.  
"Thanks."  
"You're cute."  
She knew Anakin gave her a humored look. "Clothed or nude?" he teased.  
She flushed again, but returned the jibing. "A hot Jedi hero like you? Nude, definitely."  
Coveralls a little small, Anakin stepped into the hall. "Let's get lunch."  
Tahiri couldn't look at Anakin as they headed to the mess. She feared she'd see something she shouldn't. Again.  
Seated across from each other with some sort of stir fry, she saw Anakin's gaze slowly take her in. "I should make you strip, for that."  
Her heart jumped, her neck and face heating. Tahiri gulped. "Uh, I don't think so."  
His lips quirked as he shoveled a bite in his mouth. Slowly chewing it, he pushed his plate to the side. He took Tahiri's right hand in his left.  
"It's been a long time."  
She nodded, watching herself push her food about on her plate, occasionally nibbling.  
"I know I lied to you, Tahiri, but I'm not sorry. I couldn't let you die with me."  
"…I know," Tahiri whispered. "I used to think I left you, but I came to see…" She wiped her eye. "That's why I started seeing Valin. I knew you wouldn't want me to languish in negatude."  
She stared up into his eyes. "You came back just in time, you know that? Another year, I would've been married to Valin."  
Something passed through his eyes. "Why does that matter?"  
Tahiri felt her chest tighten as her eyes widened. "I…" She looked at her plate. "I'm sorry," she half choked, angry at herself. "I—"  
"Don't cry," he murmured, taking her head in his hand and wiping her tear with his thumb. "Yes, I love you, Tahiri. But I'm dead. Just because I've been brought back, I'm sought by Sith I've never heard of. Do you want to risk that?"  
"I… We're stronger together, you know."  
"I do. But what kind of guy does that to his girlfriend?" Anakin kissed her, keeping his face near hers. "If you decide you want to risk it, let me know. Don't answer now. Wait, see those still living…"  
"No."  
He shook his head. "Tahiri—"  
"When we get to Mon Calamari, we're finding a holy man or something and marrying, then taking a honeymoon. I'm here. Your family can wait."  
"Uh, no."  
"Why?" she demanded.  
Anakin was beet red. "Tahiri, I…" He tried again. "I'm impressed you were that, uh, taken by my, um—"   
"C'mere." She grabbed his face in her hands, kissing him hard. "I'm not letting you take the easy way out, this time," she breathed fiercely.  
"Huh?"  
"You said it'd be easier if we didn't make it." She glared at him accusingly, only half playing, remember the agony of losing their opportunity in the bud. "We made it, started figuring it out, and you decided to get yourself killed."  
Anakin's lips quirked. "My secret's known."  
"Now," Tahiri asked him, "will we be Jedi's Solo or Jedi's Veila?"  
"_Veila_?"  
"Well, there are enough Jedi's Solo, don't you think?"  
They began arguing.  
  
Author's Note:  
Well, what do you think of _that_ reunion? (How he & Barriss get there so fast comes in two more chapters.)  
Think I stuck with their behavior? (Yes, why Tahiri's acting like her old self will be coming… Eventually.)  
Review, please.  
  



	9. Seven

Author's Note:  
Thank you, Falcona SkyWolf.  
Okay, here's where things start getting a little more… weird. There's a particular person I've added who is a freak. If you don't want to wait on who she is you can check my story "I no longer have a name". (All my stories are meant to be related, though "The Rejected" isn't yet far enough to be much help and won't be for a long time.)

* * *

Chapter Seven

Jedi Master Kyp Durron frowned. The Force had prod him awake… why?  
He was now strolling into a poor section of the city. Kyp stopped, looking around him. He turned to head back to the Jedi. A female scream stopped him.  
He dashed after it, following it to a shoddy apartment. Ignoring the decrepit surroundings, he used the Force to pinpoint where the scream had originated.  
The bedroom.  
Kyp hesitated, then kicked the sheet door in. "Is there a—"  
He stopped, staring, at a very Yuuzhan-Vong scarred young woman.  
Who was staring right back at him, hands clasping her sheets up to her neck. Pallid, her dark eyes and long hair looked out of place. Long purple scars went up her arms.  
He noted the right 'hand's twitching. "Got a nice pet, there, huh?" he asked, nodding towards the six-appendaged Yuuzhan Vong creature that was her hand. "Where'd you get it?"  
"Guess."  
The woman's strong voice didn't match her wanness. He fell back a step. "You're… doing well, I trust?"  
Her face soured, and she tossed her sheets aside and got up, a loose nightdress billowing about her, hiding her form. She treated his rushing in on her as if it was something to be expected, though thoroughly disliked.  
He took a quick breath, seeing her neck. It was one big scar, as if someone with a big enough hand had squeezed the entire thing hard and long enough to cause tissue damage.  
But shouldn't she then be dead?  
"There's no need for pleasantries, Master Durron. You're here because you heard her scream."  
Kyp was missing something and knew it. "…Her?"  
"_The_ scream. Forgive me." She stood facing him, her stately bearing making her seem taller than her average height. "You may _go_, Master Durron."  
It was only after he obeyed that he realized she'd known his name, and he didn't know hers.  
  
"Don't you ever sleep?" Lando Calrissian had followed the clanging from a few hangar bays down.  
A grimy, disheveled, but thoroughly delighted Dan Stanley peeked out of the _Millennium Falcon_'s top, grinning wildly. "Sleep? You kidding? I haven't had this big of a challenge in decades!"  
Considering Stanley had obviously only been alive for two of those, Lando had to chuckle. "How's it coming?"  
"Oh, okay, I guess." His face curled up like kids' did when they have to eat something they don't like. "I hate to say it, but the bet could really go either way at the moment."  
Lando hid a smile, wondering how long it would be until Stanley gave up. Han was going to be furious at him for letting a stranger tinker with it, but the Solos had already slotted it for the scrap heap, anyway. Let the kid have some fun.  
"Speaking of sleep," Stanley said suddenly, shooting Lando a puzzled glance. "What are you doing up?"  
"Getting back to my ship after a good night's recreation."  
Stanley looked shocked. "Lando Calrissian!" The young man threw a hydrospanner so it just missed him, but it still made Lando jump back. "You're married!"  
Surprised, he looked up at his younger friend and saw the too-innocent expression on his face. "Why—" he laughed. "Why you—"  
"Didn't bring any drinks for me, did you? –I'm kidding!" Stanley's hand warded off any response to that first statement. He looked agitated. "By the Force I'm kidding!"  
"You'd better be kidding!" A young brunette hopped up on the _Falcon_. "Else guess-who'll have your hide!"  
Lando gave the lass a good lookover. He couldn't judge her shape, since her frayed tan tunic and trousers fit her loosely; but she moved rather awkwardly, as if… well, he didn't know what.  
Her long dark brown hair was tied back in a lax braid except for a thin side braid, the hair stiff enough that it would probably do no more than flop up and down if she had to do any action. Petite, just shy of being called short, her face had a quality to it that made her seem like anyone's baby sister…  
Innocence. Naïveté. Almost downright stupidity.  
That was it. She looked daft.  
Lando couldn't say what exactly gave him that impression, but he thought it was probably a mixture of everything, voice included.  
She edged carefully towards Stanley on the Falcon, apparently aware enough of her own ungainliness to know she'd fall otherwise. So she wasn't a complete idiot.  
"I hear you're being considered for Rogue Squadron," she said frankly. Actually, she said everything candidly. She seemed to say everything that came to mind, too. "Who's that guy? Feels like he's fifty-something."  
"Lando Calrissian _is_ 'fifty-something'." Stanley's terseness would have given a child the hint, but not this brunette.  
"And… Master Luke's younger, but not that much younger, so he's what? Fifty, now? I wonder what he'd do if someone lit a fire to heat this silly building. Does he like fire?"  
Lando watched the girl, perplexed. What was she asking Stanley all this for?  
Stanley sighed. "No, Yni. I don't think he's a pyromaniac."  
"Aw, _blatha_!" cursed Yni, still sounding absolutely forthright. "Nothing like a nice big fire to calm the nerves."  
From down below where Stanley worked, Lando saw his eyes widen momently. "_Your_ nerves, maybe. People tend to find destructive fires harrowing."  
_ What in the galaxy…_ Yni actually looked _surprised_ at Stanley's statement. "They do? But what about forest fires? Those are good for the soil—drive out all those horrid animals, too!" she added with a scowl and a shiver.  
Stanley put down his tool and turned to her, drawing a deep breath. "Yni, you _do_ know most people like ferbils, right?  
Yni shuddered. "Oh, don't remind me! A little boy talked me into seeing what was in his hand, once—and that pesky little ferbil tore half my thumb off!" So saying, she held up the wronged thumb—a perfectly sound thumb, for all Lando could see.  
"And just the other day I got attacked by one of Talon Karrde's vornskyrs. They took my whole blasted hand off!"  
Lando decided to leave Stanley to the girl's chatter, seeing as he tolerated it—  
"Hey! Wa—"  
He whipped about as he heard a crash and some extremely painful thuds.  
"Yni?" Stanley called down from his perch. "You in one piece?"  
"Uh, let me see…"  
Some choice bewildered expletives entered Lando's mind.  
Yni came slowly around to Lando's side of the _Falcon_, still examining her hands. "Yep—oh, wait." She stopped. "I think I lost a—aw, nevermind. It'll heal."  
The brunette tore a strip from her tunic with a quickness that showed where the frayed ends came from. She wrapped it around a finger. Almost immediately the top of it filled with blood.  
"What?" Stanley slid down from the _Falcon_, coming beside her anxiously. "What'd you lose?"  
Yni shrugged. "Just a fingernail." She looked at it, frowning as if she was a bit addled. "Hurts like Sith."  
"Why don't you go let your Master help it?"  
"Good idea." Yni's nose wrinkled up. "I hate doing that, though. She'll ask what I did."  
Stanley shrugged. "Tell her you fell. If she doesn't ask off what…" He winked.  
She laughed, grinning at him. "And they call you a troublemaker! Lines and stones!"  
From the look on Stanley's face, Lando knew he wasn't the only one who missed that one. "Lines and stones?"  
"Aw, just a rough translation of a Fallanassi saying. 'Lines guide until stones land.' Talking about how you can plan your life all you want, but you can't control what happens to you."  
Yni shook her head, yawning. "Well, good night."  
"Good night, Yni."  
Lando smiled politely at her as she passed. He looked back at Stanley, who watched Yni until she left.  
He then sighed, glancing up at the ship. "Well, I won't be working on that anymore, tonight."  
They started strolling out. "Interesting choice for a girlfriend," Lando commented.  
"_What_?" Dan Stanley looked at him, blue eyes wide. "You've got to be kidding me. _Girlfriend_? Her?" He chuckled.  
"Well?" Lando stopped, frowning at Stanley. "What is she, then?"  
Stanley froze, face getting the look it always did when there was something that haunted him. After several seconds' struggle, he looked composedly at Lando Calrissian.  
"That is none of your business."  
  
Jedi Knight Jaina Solo shot off her bunk, lightsaber buzzing in her hand.  
After a moment, she hurriedly flung on her flight suit. Her half-fastened boots clicked against the floor as she hurried… wherever the Force was guiding her.  
She eyed her surroundings, still not certain what the forewarned danger was. A stray sniff of ozone caught her attention. She stepped onto the street, looking around.  
A flash caught her attention some distance away. The sonic wave reached her some seconds later. Eardrums popping, she ran towards the explosion.  
Her eye quickly measured the distance. The Jedi jumped onto a building's roof, taking a quick shortcut.  
Part of a lower-end home complex had collapsed in on itself. She jumped into the midst of it, doubting many had survived such a blast. She saw skeletal remains already.  
Smoke whirled about her legs. A woman's coughs caught her attention.  
"Hello?" Jaina aimed towards the sound.  
A young woman, skin a dark honey color, looked up blankly with dark brown eyes, her glistening matching hair gnarled and bloody, her body trapped underneath a fallen wall.  
As Jaina knelt beside her, she realized the problem. "You're blind."  
"No?" The woman coughed. "Senator Whitesun's here, too."  
"She is?" Jaina glanced around, wondering where.  
The blind woman nodded. "Over there." She grimaced. "Can you get this off me?"  
The Jedi eyed the twisted remains of a metal wall. It wasn't supporting anything, anymore, so… "Sure."  
Turning her words into action, the young woman soon managed to roll free of her cage. She rose easily, then paused.  
Taking a few experimental steps, the woman then used a side-to-side glide to head in the direction she'd indicated, deftly avoiding obstacles.  
Jaina joined her, using her eyes to search for the young Senator.  
The blind woman stopped. "I last saw her here."  
The Jedi looked at her oddly. " 'Saw'?"  
"The explosion blinded me. I've lost my eyesight, before."  
As she sought Senator Whitesun, Jaina felt a hard spot growing in her stomach. Lost her eyesight? "How'd that happen?"  
"Torture."  
The Jedi gave the woman a measuring sidelong glance. "Why?"  
An odd quirk came to her lips. "You wouldn't believe me."  
"Try me." There! A glint of blonde hair caught Jaina's eye.  
"No."  
Jaina pulled Senator Whitesun out from the twisted trap of her room, apparently the explosive's target. She knelt by the blonde's side.  
Misti hardly looked Human.  
Jaina grabbed her comlink off her belt and called for Cilghal.  
"She's that bad?"  
The Jedi glanced up. She'd forgotten about the blinded woman. "Just be glad you can't see her."  
  
"Hey, doc! What's going on?"  
Han Solo'd heard the boom, saw the ensuing flurry of activity. One of the problems with a secure med room was the lack of people to answer your questions. What time was it, anyway?  
"Hurry!" the doctor called, ignoring the question. A nurse rolled a gurney into the room.  
Han propped himself up to peek at the incoming patient.  
He stared, surprised. He'd never seen anyone that disfigured and not on their last leg.  
"Master Cilghal!" a voice called. "Master Cilghal!"  
"Who _is_ that?" The doctor ignored him.  
Jaina stuck her head in. "Has anyone seen Master Cilghal?"  
"_Nnn_…" The figure on the gurney moaned, voice slurred. "Nnt uh _Jidai_…"  
A nurse screamed, dropping in a faint. The doctor scowled puzzledly at the figure's bioreadings. "She shouldn't be responsive!" he muttered perplexedly.  
"Senator?" A dark-skinned young woman entered, a good head taller than everyone else. Han noticed she was blind. "Shut up or I'll call Qui-Gon."  
The mutilated Senator made a noise between a choke and a gurgle.  
The blind woman smiled, patting the Senator's bloody and torn arm. "Good girl."  
"Wuff."  
She went critical.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Keep reviewing, please! It tells me you _want_ the next chapter! 


	10. Eight

Author's Note:  
Thank you, Falcona SkyWolf, for your review, but you're wrong on that one. So far, you have a total of two right and two wrong, if I recall correctly. (Exactly what governs who these can be I'm hoping to explain later in the story.) …You might want to keep the Whitesun thing in mind, though… )  
Here's where things start getting more complex, so let me know if I get completely confusing.  
Anyway, next chapter comes when I get a review.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Eight

Tenel Ka Chume Ta' Djo, Queen Mother of the Hapes Cluster and former Jedi Knight, allowed herself a slight frown. Halting her one-handed braiding, she stared into her tall royal mirror.  
A prim stranger stared back at her.  
Even years after her mother's death and her own inheritance of the throne, her surroundings' opulence disturbed her. She was ruler of Hapes, certainly—but also a warrior woman of Dathomir. Her grandmother was chagrined at Tenel Ka's insistence that she keep up her finely tuned muscles.  
This nagging concern of softening she rarely permitted to surface, but led the Queen Mother to engage in rather… perilous exercises.  
Her influential grandmother had been pressuring her to at least take a consort to secure her bloodline until she married. Ta'a Chume considered Tenel Ka a rebellious Queen Mother, denying Hapes what it always needed—an heiress.  
Inwardly, she admitted her grandmother's concern was valid. Unfortunately, the strength Tenel Ka had prided herself in vanished when it came to… such things.  
Well past the age previous matriarchs had taken their first consort, if not slave, she had declined to do either. The very thought of such liberality disgusted her.  
She also found herself emotionally bound to a male she knew well; someone who would undoubtedly be shocked if he knew how she felt, but someone who complimented her perfectly.  
If only he'd see it.  
She finished her hair quickly. Ta'a Chume had requested an audience with her, and she had granted it—providing it was on her own turf and that Grandmother joined her at an absurdly early hour in the morning.  
Though Queen Mother, Tenel Ka still had danger of assassination by her own relatives.  
Relaxing with the Force, she ensured her appearance was flawless, then calmly strode into her den to await her grandmother.  
"Tenel Ka."  
"Grandmother." She nodded at the older woman and to a couch. "Sit."  
Ta'a Chume's sour face flinched. "_I_ showed more respect for _my_ grandmother, at your age."  
She judged her grandmother's anger. Normally, Ta'a Chume didn't mind Tenel Ka's bluntness. She must have done something else that had infuriated her grandmother.  
The Queen Mother waved a male slave in. "Breakfast, Grandmother?"  
Immediately, Ta'a Chume fell back into suave diplomacy. "Of course, my dear."  
They ate in silence, Tenel Ka acutely aware of her grandmother's sharp gaze. The older woman put her half-eaten portion aside.  
"I've selected a consort for you."  
A fire lit in Tenel Ka's gray eyes. "_No_."  
Ta'a Chume sighed as if humoring a child. "You're very beautiful, child; but without that prosthetic arm—"  
"I… said… _no_." As she growled, the former Jedi slowly stood, as fluid as befitted a warrior of Dathomir. "Leave."  
The older woman laughed as if shocked. "Surely a woman can have a meal with her granddaughter?"  
Tenel Ka had had her fill of Hapan politics. With her one arm, she hauled the affronted Ta'a Chume from her suite.  
Outside her door, her grandmother turned on her. "You'll regret this, soon—you won't be young forever. Jedi Solo has found a woman."  
Her hand still moved as she had directed, shutting and locking her door in her grandmother's face.  
_ Jacen? _Engaged_?!_  
Tenel Ka staggered more than any physical blow would've made her do. "No," she whispered hoarsely. "Not a fact."  
Even as she denied it, she knew at least some portion of it was true. Ta'a Chume'd had no idea how much her information would affect her granddaughter.  
_ Jacen._  
Truth slammed her.  
Her gray eyes pranced wildly around the room. If Jacen was engaged he would invite her to the wedding!  
Wouldn't he?  
Doubt ripped through her. They had been such close companions as Jedi. Could the years have made the Jedi Knight forget their friendship?  
Composing herself, the Queen Mother closed her eyes. She hadn't seen her friend in years—not since…  
_ Tenel Ka had accepted her royal heritage._  
She should've stayed a Jedi, she thought bitterly. Ta'a Chume was right—who would want a one-armed Queen?  
Not even her old friends, apparently.  
Tenel Ka tried to think of one time since the war's end that her friends had tried to call her.  
The realization hit her like a slap. She'd seen them a few times during the war after she'd quit being a Jedi, but…  
They hadn't talked to her as a friend. They'd addressed her as royalty.  
And so she was. Sovereign of sixty-six systems.  
And hating every minute of it.  
They must think her a traitor.  
Tenel Ka got her lightsaber from its now-usual place under her arm. She examined the handle, using her one hand to rub the ornate designs she'd etched into the stained rancor tooth. It was a beautiful piece.  
As it should be. On her first blade, haste had cost her an arm.  
Aching with loss and abandonment, she changed from her royal garments into her blue lizardskin bodysuit, covering even less than her torso-covering armor. Had Tenel Ka had the choice of which life she'd have to choose instead of the Jedi, she would've preferred her mother's.  
She hooked her lightsaber in its familiar place on her belt. The rancor-tooth handle felt _right_ there, so much better than hidden under her arm.  
A guilty pang hit her as she swiftly braided her hair in the one-handed manner Anakin had invented for her. She'd been there when he died.  
Turning her guilt into gratitude, she even put in some of the decorative feathers; something she hadn't done in a long time.  
Taut from intense emotion, Tenel Ka decided to go on her hardest calisthenics route—and that, twice.  
  
A woman, in her forties, stood regally beside the large window. Her ornate black gown draped her form, trailing onto the floor behind her, her elaborate headdress sending strings of beads into her hair.  
A respectful distance away her handmaidens sat in their chairs, arranged in a semicircle behind her throne. All the women wore hooded loose gowns, simply cut, a dull and unobtrusive dark gray with pale gray inner lining.  
Someone flung open the doors to the Naboo Throne Room. The woman's lips pressed together into a thin line. She did not move, but her handmaidens stood and approached her.  
"You called the Jedi!" Bruck Chun snarled, stalking her.  
The resulting quirk to her lips immediately straightened as she turned to face the Dark Jedi. "I beg to differ."  
"_Oh_?!"  
She glanced at two of her handmaidens, making sure their hands fell near their waists. She mentally scolded herself. Those two knew what they were doing!  
She moved gracefully to her throne, letting her handmaidens fall behind her—and putting a certain two between the Dark Jedi and herself. She slowly sat, entirely composed.  
"I informed certain parties of Jedi Eerin and Jedi Veila's positions. I assumed you desired ransom." She didn't let herself flinch. That would betray her intentional duplicity. _No, I do not have the Force. But I know how you think, Dark Lord._  
"_I_—" Chun seemed to realize his lack of control, and drew himself back into a tightly wound bundle for action. Even she could see that, though she gratefully lacked the Force.  
Chun's blue eyes became cold gray stones. "We will see." He left immediately, his black cape swirling in his wake.  
No sooner did the doors shut than did the blonde of her two special handmaidens lower her hood and pull out a pipe, hazel gaze unperturbed. "Talk about déjà vu."  
The other, a redhead, also lowered her hood, green eyes shrewd. "What about it?"  
"The rest of you may leave us," she spoke up. These two handmaidens… were special. The other five immediately bowed and obeyed.  
The blonde gave her Queen a glance and lit her pipe. She took a puff, then exhaled slowly. "Same thing Amidala said to Gunray right before contacting Senator Palpatine."  
The Queen sighed, slouching on her throne. "Must it always come back to that?"  
Another puff of the soothing aromatic smoke dissipated into the air. The Queen didn't think that hazel gaze ever lost its calm—Force knew it had seen enough not to!  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
With no more than a fibercord, her one arm and her legs, the Queen Mother climbed up, over, and down every single building she came to, trying vainly to overtax her muscles, not caring how seedy an area she was in.  
Her senses tingled with warning.  
Landing lightly in the alley, she reached for her lightsaber, muscles taut and prepared for an attack.  
Instead, she saw an elderly woman crouched beside a trash bin. The woman inclined her head towards her. "Your Majesty."  
With royal dignity, Tenel Ka nodded acknowledgment. The old woman's brown eyes were dark, her shimmering dark gray hair offering glimpses of her matching former hair color. Though obviously aged, her face and body gave little evidence to that fact, bearing few wrinkles and hardened with muscle.  
The Queen Mother frowned. The woman felt… familiar. "Have we met?"  
A gleam appeared in the old woman's eye. "We will."  
At the flicker of warning Tenel Ka brought her lightsaber up to bear, but too late. The woman stirred—  
Blackness took her.  
  
Her heart pounded against her chest, her body burning in shame. She was a fool. Anakin was _dead_.  
She was falling for a lie. She had to be.  
Only hours earlier, even as her mind had rationalized, the words had escaped her lips. "I do."  
It was Anakin. She knew it, felt it.  
That was impossible.  
A hallucination, perhaps?  
She felt his lips against hers, as warm as she remembered, with a passion beyond anything he'd before shown towards her behind their kiss. This was no dream.  
So she was a dupe, and some trickster could now…  
Could _have_ her? Willingly?  
_ I'm crazy,_ she realized. _I've gotta be._  
Anakin smiled sadly, forehead against hers. Tahiri squelched her doubts, moving the undying echoes to a corner of her mind where he wouldn't feel them.  
_ You see?_ she told herself. _He _has_ to be Anakin! He _feels_ me! Our bond—it's whole! How could anyone fill that, but…_

* * *

Author's Note:  
"While Darkness Fell", specifically the last part will help with two women's identities in here—one my creation, the other one someone I've taken liberties with. Assuming you want a spoiler, that is. (I know, I'm mean. I make you work for spoilers. Sorry, but I like that kind myself, so that's what I give.)  
Last part about Tahiri was because… well, she's not stupid. A little impetuous, perhaps… :) I mean, wouldn't _you_ be skeptical if someone who'd been dead for years suddenly showed up in your face right after you had a nightmare about him?  
Please review. Tips, thoughts, or critical analyses are fine. I don't care if you write your thinking process as you're trying to make sense of some of this. All I ask is for a clean mouth. Thank you. :)  
  



	11. Nine

Author's Note:  
Thanks again, Falcona Skywolf; and you're right—about one of them, that is. Another diary entry follows this chapter. See if you can even out the score. :)  
And I apologize ahead of time for one character's conflicting personality. There's a reason for it.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Nine

"How convenient."  
His wife's sarcasm bothered him.  
Mara Jade Skywalker clenched and unclenched her fists. "Right before she has to face a legal inquisition, she happens to get herself blown up."  
Luke raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying she did it to herself?"  
"Of course." Mara shot him a look that called him an idiot. "Distracts investigators from her actions, keeps her from having to face the investigation, and gets herself plenty of sympathetic press coverage."  
"Have you seen her injuries?"  
"Is she alive?" Luke nodded, and his wife gave him the 'See?' look.  
"Actually…" He tried to find the best way to say it. "The doctors say she shouldn't be."  
"Shouldn't be what?"  
"Alive. The bit of bone which pierced her lung _should_ have killed her. But it didn't."  
"But lung fluid's toxic." A dark look descended on his wife's face, green eyes glowing. "Is she a Dark Jedi?"  
Luke felt like sighing and rolling his eyes, but he could guess her reaction if she recognized it as his being frustrated with the younger students. "If she is a Dark Jedi why didn't she strike when I was in her office? Her secretary is able to use the Force."  
"Not yet time," Mara easily explained. "They have a larger goal in mind. Bring the Jedi Masters to trust them, and then… They won't get me."  
Luke sighed, resigned to the fact that Mara was not about to change her mind. He straightened his tunic and faced her directly. "We can have this conversation another time. It's time to see Han, again."  
  
Lando Calrissian was careful not to make a sound as he entered the hangar, as he could hear Stanley and his eccentric friend chatting erratically from the entrance.  
"Calrissian?"  
He started, looking at Yni as she rummaged through Stanley's tools.  
Her calm gaze made him wonder whatever made him think her a dolt. "Don't."  
Lando hesitated. "Don't what?" he asked cautiously.  
Though her expression had changed, her frankness had not. "Don't bother trying to sneak up. It can't work."  
"Oh, no?" He grinned, trying to hide his discomfort. "What are you, a Jedi or something?"  
Before Yni could reply, Stanley's arm shot out of the bulkhead he was in and wrapped around her mouth. "Clam it."  
She spat out his arm, spluttering a bad taste from her mouth. "Ooo, filthy grease!" she said candidly, face still sour. "The perfect garnish for my lunch." She spat off to the side, away from them, and her face turned daft, again.  
"Why did he stare at me?"  
Lando heard the abrupt _thud_, _clang_, and "_Ow_!" from Stanley before the haggard blonde stuck his head out. "Okay, first of all, where were you?"  
Yni scratched her head. "Well, Master Thracia wouldn't let me go to the bar where she was and made me come back here to find my fingernail and net it back on… But I got it stable before Master Thracia finished whatever she was doing and so I was waiting outside the bar."  
"In the street?"  
"Uh…" she thought and nodded. "Yeah."  
"What were you wearing?"  
She looked perplexed. "This, of course!" Those frayed, loose tan tunic and trousers were the only things she had? Poor kid.  
"What were you doing?"  
Yni grimaced, face frightened. "Avoiding the animals."  
"Did you look like that?"  
She scowled. "Look like what?"  
"Scared."  
"Uh…" She thought, then nodded. "I think so. Why?"  
" 'Cause some guys like their girls afraid. Makes them easier to control."  
Yni frowned with confused curiosity at Stanley. "Huh?'  
The young man sighed and pulled himself completely out from under the ship. "Okay, you know how guys and girls have certain relationships. Well—"  
"Ah—" she interrupted, putting her hand on his arm. "Why don't you start there?"  
Lando laughed. "By the Force, woman! Don't tell me you've never had a man of your own!"  
His laugh died on his spotting her absolutely clueless expression as Stanley guided her to a seat.  
"Okay." The tech took a deep breath. "You have… friends, right?" She nodded. "You remember your parents?"  
"Of course."  
"…When you think of how they treated each other, do you remember something different in that than how they treated other people?"  
"_Oh_!" Understanding lit up Yni's face. "Like you and—"  
"Yeah," Stanley said quickly with a wince. He looked haunted, again. He swallowed hard. "Like me and—and _her_."  
Somehow, the girl's expression brightened even more. "And you'd beat her because you wanted to control her!"  
Lando Calrissian looked at Stanley in surprise. He never would've thought the youth the abusive type.  
Stanley's jaw and face muscles struggled to keep his composure. "…Yeah," he said finally, but it came out hoarse. "And I ended up… killing her…" He fled the scene.  
Yni and Lando watched him leave, then he turned to the young woman.  
Who was smugly smiling.  
  
"She was _talking_?"  
Her husband nodded. "Right up until every alarm they had went off. That's when they sent me out."  
Her brother and sister-in-law shared a frown. "She survives when she shouldn't, and responds when she should be in a coma," he murmured thoughtfully.  
Mara nodded. "Dark Jedi."  
"_Or_ not," Luke pointed out. "It may be she isn't Human."  
"That's not what the doctors say."  
Luke raised an eyebrow at Mara. "What do they say, then?"  
"They think she's a Jedi."  
"Perhaps she is," Leia Organa Solo spoke up.  
Mara glared at her. "From where? Not here. Shadow Academy."  
Leia recalled her meeting with Senator Whitesun. Of course, the blonde could merely be an expert actress, but…  
She shook her head. "No… I don't think so…"  
"Why did she avoid Jedi, then?"  
Luke's brow furrowed. "When did she avoid Jedi?"  
"Kyp tried talking to her and she left almost immediately."  
"She did protest having a Jedi treat her," Han spoke up.  
"Why don't we leave this conversation for another time?" Leia didn't like where this was going. For some reason, she felt rather protective of the young senator. "We don't have enough information for anything right now." She turned to Mara. "Where's the fruit bread?"  
"I couldn't bring it."  
"Ben?"  
Mara rolled her eyes. "Of course."  
Han chuckled, shaking his head. "He ate it all again, huh? Kids."  
Leia exchanged a glance with her brother. Her nephew often gobbled the sweet Naboo rolls. It came as no surprise.  
She was more worried about Senator Misti Whitesun, and she could tell Luke was, too.  
  
The tall young woman rubbed her keys, her dark eyes alive and determined, if a bit unfocused.  
"A challenge."  
Jedi Knight Jaina Solo relaxed somewhat at the secretary's tone. Obviously, the woman looked forward to this assignment. She just regretted she hadn't met the lady sooner.  
"I'm sorry about—"  
The young woman waved a dark golden-brown hand. "My boss is a Senator. I expect such dangers," the tall lady reassured Jaina, referring to the temporary loss of her eyesight, already recovering.  
Senator Misti Whitesun's secretary set her hands lightly upon the keypad. "Where do you want me to start?" she asked as she typed. "Official or unofficial?"  
Jaina gave her an odd look. "Are you saying…?"  
"I specialize in the unofficial."  
The Jedi Knight looked at the senatorial secretary with new eyes. Unofficial information was by far the hardest to come by—especially without getting noticed. But it was usually the only way to find experts' leads. "Unofficial, then."  
Leaving the other young woman to her hacking, Jaina paused by the door, looking back in. What would Senator Misti Whitesun be doing with someone who specialized in illegal information?  
Remembering what planet the young Senator was from, Jaina decided that probably was the wisest move, after all.  
How else would Whitesun keep an eye on the Hutts?

* * *

Author's Note:  
Next entry is the diary, again. 


	12. Diary Entry 2

DIARY ENTRY 2

Hello.  
As I sit here with this datapad, my mostly numb fingers run over the buttons. I taught myself finger-reading, once; a very, very long time ago. I came to when I recovered the memory.  
The monitors say I'm comatose, but I ignore them. I can function at a bodily level that would be unconscious for another. That doesn't mean I'm hardier. It just means I can be aware as I go critical. I haven't always had this ability.  
I'm not sure where it came from, either.  
My body aches and groans. Searing flashes often blind my senses. We ignore it. It's only pain.  
I won't be hearing for weeks; nor seeing, unless…  
I could be Nashira.  
It would work. Nashira withstood interrogations, Sith mind probes, electrocution by Dark Side lightening. She can handle pain. She's died, before.  
I, Tayun, rebel. The gods' three gifts—death, pain, and life—echo in my memory. Yun-Yammka, the Slayer, would have Tayun kill—  
I, Me, squelch Tayun. I need Nashira, right now, since I'm not here. I'll have to decide, though. Do I heal quickly, concentrating wholly on myself; or do I heal warily, keeping an eye out for enemies who could put two and two together and get six?  
All right. It's five.  
But I still can't risk it.  
Tayun and Nashira are eagerly sought in two circles. I survive because they hunt separately. I am alone. A joint hunt would destroy me.  
I, Nonni must be careful. No one wants her yet, but overuse of her would put her in greater danger than the others.  
The worst group seeks I, Me. They won't find Me, though. I've buried her in my mind, hiding her even from myself. She's the one who haunts me, tormenting me in the night… plaguing me during these occasional resurgences.  
Right now I'm more worried about M—  
I almost told you her name, again, didn't I?  
The gang after her is of a more innocuous nature, but that's only comparative. I know how to tell if the other groups come too close. I know what they can do to me, how to lose them. This last one, I'm clueless.  
They've found me, too. That's why I'm here, writing blindly, trying to figure out how to balance my healing and watching.  
It's a private room, thankfully, so no other patients will be harmed when someone comes to finish the job. It'll be a bounty hunter, most likely. Suspecting what's coming, though, doesn't help me know what I'm going to do about them.  
They're Hutt.

* * *

Author's Note:  
So who, do you think, might consider Hutt attacks__ "innocuous" compared to what she's used to?  
Next chapter comes when I get a review! 


	13. Ten

Author's Note:

Thanks for your continued faithful reviews, Falcona SkyWolf. (Though I'm fighting to stay a few chapters ahead of you… ) Yes. Poor 'Dan'. Yni's behavior will be explained in a few more chapters. There's actually a (questionably) good reason behind her prodding. (Hint: Yni's my character. And not all her ignorance is feigned. Guessed who she is yet? :D I'm picking on you, I know. I mean it nicely.)  
And a little more info appears about the mysterious Queen and her handmaidens…  
Next chapter comes when I get a review. (I'd stop putting this, but I'd hate for anyone to forget. :)  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Ten

"You cannot keep this up, Your Majesty. We are few."  
The Naboo Queen watched her redheaded handmaiden with keen eyes. _Understatement. Why do Force-users always underestimate?_ Light Side, Dark Side. Both did the same in their arrogance.  
"I am well aware of your limited number, Clee Rhara." Limited, indeed. _Two._ She wondered what this one would say if she knew of Sokor. "You need not fear that I have forgotten it."  
"You certainly _act_ as if you forget it!" Temperamental one, this Light Side user. Never used the Dark Side, though. Didn't understand the Dark Side, either.  
"Don't be so certain, Little Clee." The blonde finally moved away from the window, releasing a puff from her pipe. She'd been standing there for hours. "Her Majesty knows more of the Dark Side than you might think."  
Knowing hazel eyes bore into her. She suppressed a shiver, face souring. Yes, she remembered her parents quite well. She had seen what her mother had done to her daughter.  
"Educate me, then!"  
Rhara's fuse had become too short for the Queen's liking. "There is no need to pressure Yadmi when the palace library is at your disposal."  
The redhead's sharp green eyes glared at her, knowing full well what she wanted to know could not be found in the library. "Excuse me, Your Highness—perhaps you'd prefer if I was a fighter escort rather than bodyguard!" the handmaiden snapped.  
"_You'd_ certainly prefer it," she replied dryly. "Go ahead and transfer, if that would make you any more sociable."  
Rhara scowled.  
"That would be an _order_, Clee Rhara."  
The Queen released her breath when the woman left her presence. "Are you certain we cannot exchange her, Yadmi?"  
The blonde shook her head calmly, pulling on her pipe, again. "Not without getting too much attention. Clee as yet does not know there are others. Those who we could trust to hold their tongues are already taken—assigned, or captured."  
"Any assigned to—"  
"One. Another stays close."  
"And the other Master is ill."  
Yadmi, as the blonde called herself for this generation, nodded sharply. "And the two who could replace the first two have of course gotten themselves captured."  
She gave the handmaiden a questioning glance.  
"The woman is impetuous. He abandons his own caution to keep her safe. Often gets himself in her messes because of it."  
The Naboo Queen sighed, rubbing her temples as she approached the very window from which Amidala had watched the Trade Federation invade. "We cannot let this continue. I cannot let the Dark Side control my world."  
"Yet you dare not ask for Jedi help. We reach an impasse."  
She scowled at Yadmi's not-so-subtle jab at the Queen's non-Force-sensitive bias. The handmaiden had a point; she relied on Force users for her life, but still…  
"A Jedi would kill Noxia."  
"You were considering ways of assassinating her, not so long ago, Majesty."  
"Yes, but—" Her hands shook. Here she was, manipulating all her sources for her own private goals. _Like her father._  
She sighed, leaning against the window. "I need a vacation. Take Sokor to some planet where I won't have to worry about who sees him…" _Where no one knows my parentage…_  
Yadmi added something else to her pipe, and the smoke gained an acrid fragrance. The Queen occasionally wondered if the aromas were manipulative, but couldn't afford to spend much time worrying about much besides Shadow Academy and its hold on Naboo.  
"You will need a Jedi protector, Majesty. Little Clee cannot reveal herself in public… and it would be better for all of us if I didn't, either."  
She drew a sharp breath. Jedi… Jedi to defend her? She closed her eyes. Her parents' philosophies had gotten to her more than she liked. A Jedi bodyguard would be good for her, help her fight them. But still… "Have I no other option but to ask…"  
She thought Yadmi coughed at that, but couldn't be certain. The woman might have just been clearing her throat. "Ask for the nephew."  
The Queen turned sharply on her handmaiden.  
The blonde smirked. And drew on her pipe.  
  
She couldn't move.  
Tenel Ka opened her eyes.  
She rotated in an energy field, her eyes and lips the only things free.  
"So you decided to join us."  
Her gray eyes found the speaker, an aristocratic Human male. The well-preserved old woman stood beside him.  
He stepped towards her containment field. "You should feel honored. You're the first selected for our new program."  
"Say that to Hapan security."  
The man looked puzzled. "I beg your pardon?"  
"I am Queen Mother of the Hapes Cluster."  
He frowned. "But you volunteered."  
A Force-nudge brushed her mind. She easily deflected it, glaring stonily at the man. "Not a fact."  
He raised an eyebrow. "No? I think you need your memory refreshed." Leaning forward, he moved his fingers slightly in a movement she knew full well. "You _volunteered_."  
"I am a Jedi."  
The man lost his composure a moment, obviously surprised. "But you're a Queen. You cannot be a Jedi."  
"I am."  
Whatever he disbelieved about her statement, he wasn't about to argue. He nodded deferentially. "We thank you for your offer. Your new duties will begin immediately."  
Tenel Ka didn't flinch as the energy binders sent pain shooting up her arm. "They will not."  
They faced each other, unmoving, for a long moment.  
Finally, the man smiled regretfully. "If you insist." He nodded at the woman who'd kidnapped her.  
Blackness fell once more.  
  
Mother smiled. "If it is all right with their parents, they can come."  
The fourteen-year-old boy excitedly bounced. "Thanks, Mom!"  
"Be careful, Sokor," she whispered.  
He smiled slightly in that vaguely puzzled way he'd recently picked up from Tira. "Of course."  
Mother smiled wanly, her dark eyes worried. "Later, then."  
"Later." He slapped off the comm unit, eager to go tell Tira and Wiala they could come with him on vacation…  
  
The average-seeming girl stared with dark narrowed eyes at her target, aligning her dart just right—  
"No." Her companion, a tall teen with a commanding presence, halted her arm. Taking the dart from her, she saw her friend's inconspicuous muscles ripple as the young woman casually snapped her entire left arm, making a bullseye. "You need your arm. Your wrist won't be enough."  
Nodding slowly, she took another dart in her soft hand. "But my hands are stronger than my arms."  
"Then you must strengthen your arms," was the brusque reply. "A petal is only as strong as its stem."  
She suppressed a wince at the other's analogy. She was _supposed_ to be incognito, but she had a nagging feeling this girl had guessed what she was.  
Which would be a Fallanassi.  
Monarch.

* * *

Author's Note:  
I have not invented the Fallanassi. I have taken their existence on an entirely new level which will (barring unexpected plot developments) have its premise brought forward somewhere in… well, probably several chapters.  
How am I doing on the mystery/suspense? I mean, is this just an interesting little ditty or are you guys eagerly awaiting the next chapter? (Or neither?) 


	14. Eleven

Author's Note:  
Thank you, Falcona. Personalities are tough to get right. Let me know if I slip, okay? :) 'Bout the joke, try to think of alternate meanings to what she's saying. I can spell it out to you by e-mail or you can wait for more details on Misti in the story. (There's something—I think it's in chapter 15—that might give it to you.) Which do you want?  
You might want to pay attention to what Yni says to Lando. Especially the apparently nonsensical ones. See if you can figure out what she's saying… ) It's normal word usage, just not normal context of that word usage. That's the only hint I'll give.  
Review if you want the next chapter, please. Barring foul language, I welcome any sort of review, including purely negative. Thank you.  
Enjoy! :)  
  
WARNING: _Very_ blunt statement made by a character. Not swearing, but something that would not be heard in polite conversation. But then, the woman who says it is a doctor.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Jedi Master Kyp Durron sipped some stim-tea, focusing on his datapad. He'd dropped this a while ago, but if he found any clues he'd missed…  
Master Skywalker sat across from him, eyes surrounded by dark rings. "What's so interesting?"  
"Eh…" Kyp reddened a bit, embarrassed for Luke to know of his failure. "Remember that pilot Nonni? She was really popular for a short while. Appeared one day on Malastair; moved out from there. Never lost a race. Rumor sounded like she was Force-sensitive, maybe highly so."  
Luke eyed him, not hiding his interest. "Was she?"  
Kyp sighed. "Would you believe, just days after I started tracking her, she vanished? She's hasn't been in a race, since."  
"That's odd."  
He nodded. "I tried following up on her, too. Found nothing. It's as if she's never existed." He swallowed a little more tea. "I'm looking back over my records to see if I missed anything."  
"Have you asked Karrde?"  
He shook his head. "Thought I'd handle this myself." He snorted. "Some job I've done."  
"Ask him now. Anyone who can tell when they're being tracked had ought to be worth uncovering."  
Kyp didn't have any qualms about looking Master Skywalker directly in the eye. "You know, you're right."  
  
"Look, missy—"  
She slammed her glass on the bar. "Let's get one thing straight, Calrissian. I am not 'missy'. I am 'Yni'. You want me to answer you'd better call me by the right thing."  
"You say that like it's not your name." Lando was wondering how he'd ever thought her a dolt, again. But she still never, ever, wavered one iota from her forthright attitude.  
"It isn't." Her brandy-brown eyes narrowed, her features resembling Jaina's or Leia's when those women were peeved. "I don't _have_ a name."  
"What are you talking about? Everyone has a name—"  
"I'm a zilch, Calrissian. Got that?"  
"What did your parents call you?"  
"My parents lost me when I was two years old."  
It took him a minute to figure that one out. "What happened? Was there a natural disaster or something?"  
She cocked her head to the side, watching him curiously. "Natural disaster…" she murmured. She shook her head, blinking groggily. "Funny you should ask that."  
He finally sat down beside her to have a drink himself. This was too crazy a conversation to drop… if she'd even let him drop it, which he had a nagging feeling she wouldn't. "Oh?"  
Yni squared her shoulders and drew a breath as if preparing for a fight. "I _am_ a natural disaster."  
Lando laughed. Talk about a random response! That woman— "_Wh_—?!" He shot out of his chair, cursing.  
Next thing he knew, his nose was broken. "Yes, little rodents are chewing up my feet. No, I'm not going to stop them. Can't blame them for my unwittingly activating their attack instincts, now can I?"  
Already, her feet were bleeding, and Lando imagined the bones would be showing, soon. "D—doesn't that _hurt_?" he sputtered.  
"Does your face hurt?"  
"…Yes," he managed, still trying to stop his nose's bleeding.  
Yni raised an eyebrow. "Well…?" She sipped her mild beverage and choked it down, wiping tears off her face.  
"_Yni Lecarr_!" A small humanoid woman stood in the bar's entrance, covered by a dark brown cloak which didn't hide her glare at the young woman.  
Yni shifted guiltily in her seat, eyes on her glass. She quickly quaffed the rest of it.  
"Padawan! My foot!" The petite older woman came closer and scowled at Yni's current predicament. "_Your_ feet, rather! What were you planning to do, find every little bit of your feet that the creatures used as bedding?"  
Yni still didn't turn around, staring into her empty glass. "…I was thinking more along the lines of _bacta_, Master."  
Realizing his offer of buying her a drink had gotten Yni into this mess, Lando gave the woman a dashing smile and took her hand. "Master Thracia, I presume?"  
Those beady eyes narrowed at him, face further souring.  
He bowed and kissed her hand. "I am pleased to meet you. I am Lando Calrissian. It always interests me to meet such facscinating individuals as your charge."  
Thracia's eyes widened. She burst out laughing. "Gracious, Padawan! If I knew you were in such good company I wouldn't have worried myself quite as sick over you!" Almost immediately, though, Thracia turned the displeased caretaker, again. "There is a very good reason I didn't want you in a bar."  
Yni looked around, trying to figure out the problem. "People are staring at me. So?"  
"They're thinking of how they can get you on the floor, dear."  
It was then that Lando knew not all of Yni's ignorance was feigned. "Huh?"  
"Sexual intercourse."  
Lando choked on his drink, and a few others did, too. Yni winced, looking apologetically at him as Thracia hauled her out. "That's the downside to having a Healer for a Master. Very direct info."  
He got up to follow her. "But—"  
"Not now!" Yni waved him back, face grim.  
Making Lando get an idea of just how much trouble he'd gotten the lass into.  
  
"Ever fly an XJ3 wing?"  
"No. Ever flown a Naboo Starfighter?"  
"Can't say I have." Jedi Knight Jaina Solo eyed the young man before her. Blue-eyed with brown hair and beard, he towered over her. Lando was trying to get this guy into Rogue Squadron. "What's it like?" she asked, referring back to the Nubian ship.  
He hesitated. "Nice." He avoided her, looking out over the crashing sea. "Beautiful," he whispered, and she wasn't sure if she'd been meant to hear it.  
"Got a girl, there?"  
Dan Stanley abruptly was still; too still. He stood, silent, entirely unmoving, facing the raging ocean.  
Jaina didn't press for a reply. "Sorry."  
He drew a quick breath, suddenly moving once more. "No. I need to think about that."  
She swiftly considered, deciding to go for broke. "What happened?"  
Stanley turned, his rueful gaze slowly taking her in, a mournful quirk to his lips. "You remind me of her." He looked back at the ocean, quickly continuing. "A long time ago, Naboo had this Senator. _Immensely_ popular, influential, strong-willed."  
A pause. "Honest, too," he added as if an afterthought. "After an assassination attempt, I was assigned to be her bodyguard."  
A mask arose on his face, and his voice thickened. "I betrayed her." Haunted eyes met hers, giving Jaina a chill. "Destroyed her reputation, her life, even the history of her. Now that I regret it, I can't tell her. She's gone."  
"I'm sorry," Jaina said automatically, her mind blown. 'A long time ago,' he'd said. It must've been. Jaina'd never even heard of such a Senator. But he didn't look much older than her! "How long ago was this?"  
Stanley shrugged. "Oh… half a century ago."  
The Jedi Knight stared. "How old _are_ you?" she asked before she could think better of it.  
He met her gaze frankly. "I was born seventy-four years ago."  
"You're seventy-four?"  
He shook his head.  
Jaina frowned. "But then you weren't born, then."  
"Oh, I was born then." He hurled a fist-sized rock out to sea. "I'm just not seventy-four."  
Floored by the seemingly young man's cryptic response, she stayed, staring at the roaring ocean as Stanley departed. His words didn't make any sense.  
One thing he'd said was chillingly clear. As a bodyguard, he'd betrayed his employer. He obviously regretted it, now, but…  
Why had he done that in the first place?  
  
"Whatchya staring at?"  
Jedi Knight Jacen Solo started, nearly dropping his datapad. "Danni!"  
She stood before him with her arms crossed. "Well?"  
He showed her the datapad. "A Queen wants a 'Jedi protector' while on vacation and asked for me specifically."  
"You going to take it?"  
Jacen shrugged. "It'll be refreshing."  
Danni Quee's jaw dropped. "_Refreshing_? Where are you going, Hapes?"  
He blinked, surprised. "Huh?"  
"What other Queen friend do you have?"  
"Well, first of all, she's not a friend. I have never heard of her in my life."  
She scowled. "But she asked for you."  
"Right." He looked at the message the Queen had sent him, still trying to figure out where she'd got this stuff. "She somehow got the idea that I'd be good with kids. Particularly her teenage son."  
"Well, there you have it." Danni smiled slightly. "You're a role model, Jacen. You know that, don't you?"  
"Uh… I'd rather—"  
"You'd rather what? This woman's asking for you for family reasons. It's just few weeks. Help the poor woman with her son. She probably doesn't have enought time to spend with him, and Force knows where the father is."  
"Are you saying I should accept?"  
"That," Danni said sternly, "is exactly what I'm saying."


	15. Twelve

Author's Note:  
Thanks, Falcona. :) I'm glad you like them, and I won't be mean to Dan forever, don't worry! (Re. joke: If you don't get it by chapter 15 or whatever I'll e-mail it)  
More Anakin-Tahiri stuff. No, uh… [cough] but they do get into a… lovers' quarrel… I suppose is the best way to put it, but it's nothing worse than I've done already. I know, this is probably more of a PG story than PG-13, but better to overrate than underrate it, is my take on it.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Twelve

"_Ummmmh_."  
She tossed and fidgeted, eyes closed tight against the red invading her eyelids, to no avail. With a small yawn, Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila swung out of bed, shielding her eyes from the bright light of sunrise coming in one of the two adjoining wall-windows. Again, she wondered where Anakin'd gotten the money for this opulently furnished hotel suite.  
She mussed the soft, thick carpet with her toes. Warm and fluffy, it was a nice change from walkways and tile floors and grass and…  
Well, she did prefer going barefoot.  
Another yawn.  
Tahiri pulled on a snug plush bathrobe Anakin'd got her. The garnet robe complimented her eyes, he fondly claimed.  
The nineteen-year-old Jedi curiously examined her eyes in the vanity mirror. Hm. Their green was flecked with yellow and hazel. She'd never noticed that, before.  
She'd never noticed her form, before, either. These past nights she'd been made acutely aware how lovely her svelte body was—and that from a man's perspective.  
Tahiri felt a blush creep over her cheeks. She'd recently recut her hair in the shoulder-length layering she'd done after escaping the Yuuzhan Vong. A subconscious recognition of Anakin's returned presence in the Force, she now realized.  
Thinking of whom… She leaned over the bed, punching her new husband in the ribs. "Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up."  
"_Uhhhh_," groaned Anakin, turning away and pulling the covers over his head.  
"Oh no, you don't. I'm hungry." Yanking the blankets from his grip, she got on her knees over him. "C'mon!" Her fingers found his sides, just under his ribs.  
"Hey…" he complained sleepily, half laughing from her tickling. "Cut that out…"  
"Get up, lazy boy. Time for breakfast!" Seeing his eyes crack open, she grinned at him.  
A mischievous quirk came to Anakin's lips, and she felt him laugh in her mind. She stopped her tickling, her head cocked to the side.  
Anakin toppled her over, the two of them landing hard on the floor.  
"Ow!" she snapped from beneath him, bopping him. "What if I'm pregnant, you knucklehead?"  
He stiffened, scrambling off her. His widened blue eyes watched her worriedly as he helped her up. "You think…?"  
She frowned sourly. "Maybe."  
At his guilty face, she couldn't help herself and broke into a laugh. "Oh, Anakin. Use your head. It's only been a week. I couldn't know, yet."  
"But you still could be?"  
She shrugged carelessly. "Hmph. What's for breakfast?"  
"Room service?" he suggested, voice muffled. His tousled blond head appeared over his Jedi tunic's top.  
Tahiri stood in her robe, arms crossed as she eyed him, projecting her displeasure over their bond. "_Again_?"  
"Don't you like it?"  
"First time, yes; next few, okay. After a week running? I'd like something besides a flavored muffin, thanks."  
Eyes narrowed thoughtfully at her, Anakin stopped, his hands ready to buckle his utility belt. He looked down, then back at her. Shaking his head, he went to the tiny closet, taking off his Jedi clothing. He tossed something on the bed. "Put that on."  
She eyed it doubtfully. "What is it?"  
"For me?"  
Tahiri warily lifted it, scrutinizing the… dress. "I wear this, no shoes."  
Anakin sighed, holding something for himself in his hands. "No shoes."

• • •

Tahiri kept half an eye on Anakin's embarrassment as she gobbled breakfast.  
Putting her empty plate aside, she daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. Determinedly she folded it and put it beside her plate. Only then did she meet her husband's awkward gaze.  
"I was hungry."  
"I'll say."  
She stood a bit clumsily. She never wore dresses, and this tight green thing was tough to move in. Strapless, it was basically a tube of some shiny dark green fabric that stopped midway down her thigh.  
Tahiri wondered crossly why Anakin kept wanting her to wear these weird clothes. Well, the bathrobe was all right, but couldn't she just stick to her Jedi tunic? It was a whole lot more comfortable than this, at least.  
"Would you like any of our Jedi friends to find you, right now?" Anakin didn't even look at her as he paid the cashier.  
"What'd be wrong with that?"  
His blue eyes narrowed at her. "Remember when that tribe of Ewoks danced in your head?"  
"And you wanted me to clear it to get in a hibernation trance? That was _only_ our first kiss. 'Course I remember it."  
"Remember Corran's first question after he'd gotten a good look at us?"  
Tahiri snorted. " 'Should I have left you two unchaperoned?' You got so red."  
Anakin smiled tightly. "I don't feel like anyone seeing what we've been doing _now._"  
Her cheeks burned. "I can see Jaina giving me a lecture on when someone's dead, they're _dead_."  
"I can see all our friends doing that, but that's beside the point. I have something I have to take care of before I try to convince everybody who I am."  
"Oh?"  
Anakin nodded. "More of a favor, really."  
"What kind of favor?"  
"The, uh, delicate kind."  
"Oh." Tahiri didn't like this. "In other words, a you-can't-come-Tahiri-'cause-you'll-botch-everything kind of favor."  
Anakin's uneasy silence told her she was right.  
She scowled, tugging her dress. It was too tight, this was too soon, she was too tired—  
Uh-oh. Her stomach bothered her, too.  
"Aw, _Sith_!" she swore.  
Her friend looked at her in surprise. "Tahiri?"  
She shook her head, angry at herself. If Anakin knew what she was having symptoms for, he'd definitely leave her behind.  
"Nothing." _That's probably true, anyway. It's not as though I've gotten much sleep lately._  
Anakin gave her a knowing glance. "I'm not that stupid, Tahiri. You're angry. I can feel it."  
"You were going to leave me behind," she accused with a hurt, narrowed gaze.  
"I was planning on it," he admitted. "It would make it easier for all us dead folks if a certain Jedi who knows we're not insane was there to greet us."  
"But if you're there, first—"  
"Too late. Grandfather and I opened this ship shop under pseudonyms, and Calrissian's found and likes him. That means Anakin Skywalker's gonna be here soon, with high ship credentials as 'Dan Stanley'.  
"Dan Stanley?" Tahiri felt herself blanch.  
Anakin's gaze grew worried as he took her arm. "What?"  
"Oops," she whispered. "I asked Lando to have my ship repaired, and he mentioned getting Stanley do it. Your grandfather's probably—"  
Tahiri bit her lip. She'd been about to say 'already here,' but that wasn't such a good idea.  
Not if she wanted more time with her best friend.  
They stood facing each other on a busy street, she glaring and he calm but unyielding.  
Anakin sighed. "I'm leaving tonight."  
"Morning."  
For the first time, Tahiri was glad for wearing something other than her Jedi robes. Nondescript and full-sleeved, they wouldn't have helped.  
With this strapless, formfitting tube, however…  
Tahiri smiled alluringly at her husband, leaning forward just a bit…  
The unexpected eyeful of cleavage was too much for poor Anakin. He crimsoned from the neck up and feverishly glanced away. "Tahiri!" he protested. "That's indecent!"  
She kept the tempting smile on her lips. "Is it?"  
He stiffened, turning away. Abruptly he grabbed her to him, kissing her hard. "Morning," he gritted. "But you stay."  
"I can come if you leave tonight?"  
"No."  
She deflated.  
"I was just making sure you understood."  
Anakin eyed her warily as they strolled down one of Mon Calamari's floating city's walkways. "No more foul play."  
Tahiri pretended to be shocked. "Foul play? What are you talking about?" She punched his arm. "_You_ got this for me."  
"I wasn't expecting you to use it to… persuade me."  
She laughed lightly, eyes twinkling. "What did you expect me to do? Persuade Jacen?"  
"Why, you—" she dodged his swing "—you _wench_!" His laugh belied his words, but Tahiri still felt stung.  
Her playful mood swiftly turned angry. "Excuse me. Maybe you'd prefer Alema, tonight!" she snapped.  
Her reference to the pretty Twi'lek shocked Anakin—apparently he'd never realized what Jedi Rar's flirting had been _for_.  
Yelling young voices filled the street.

* * *

Author's Note:  
Review for the next chapter, please! :) 


	16. Thirteen

Author's Note:  
Thanks, Falcona! :) I've gotten that a lot, that my stories get better as they go along. T/A will be put on hold awhile, but there's a part I'm planning that I think you'll like. Dan Stanley will have a good amount of influence in some more chapters.  
Note what Yni tells Lando. There's one statement in particular that's normal verb use, but the context makes it sound like another meaning. Think about her previous behavior. How does she strike you?  
How so many are coming back though their bodies were destroyed is explained in this chapter!  
By now, I'm sure you all know you've got to review for the next chapter.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

"I… I don't know if I should…"  
"Come on!" Jaina snapped at the hesitant Stanley.  
He came closer to the XJ3-wing, obviously enticed, but something held him back. "Won't you get in trouble?"  
Jedi Knight Jaina Solo threw back her head and laughed. "Please. I'm a Corporal, Stanley. You'll be formally asked to do this exercise if you refuse. You want a slot in Rogue Squadron, don't you?"  
For some reason, crimson crept over Dan Stanley's cheeks, reminding her of her late brother. "Uh…"  
"Of course you do. Now get in. This isn't like sims. This is real—except for the weapons. Those are duds. You got to 'shoot' me, or at least come close else you'll be left to tinkering with my dad's ship."  
"That won't last much longer," he said absently as he circled 'his' XJ3-wing, critically eyeing it. "I'm almost done."  
"In Lando's favor?" She grinned at him.  
Face blank, he leapt up into the cockpit. _Leapt_ up. "Mine."  
Jaina felt like someone had ripped all words from her head. This guy had fixed Dad's ship? _She_ hadn't been able to do that!  
And he'd just jumped from the floor to the cockpit…  
She controlled the urge to gape. She wondered if Stanley had ever considered Jedi training…  
  
"I was beginning to wonder if I needed to start a search for you." Lando took the last few steps to Yni's side. He hadn't seen her in a week.  
She laughed tightly, face grimy and tired. "You'd be the first." Yni stretched, sitting with her chin resting on one knee, the other leg straight out. "I presume you're wanting to finish our conversation."  
"Too strange to drop without the details," he agreed.  
An absent look came over her eyes, as if she was listening, or using the Force.  
"You can start with your parents losing you," he gently suggested. Yni's week had been terrible, if her looks were any indicator.  
Another tight laugh answered him. "My parents losing me. Right." She looked at him oddly. "What's to explain? My parents… lost me. Like they lost my sister." She hesitated, recalling. "Wait—I think… I think Sis…"  
Abruptly her eyes snapped into focus on him, and she looked angry. "Well? What about it?"  
"_How_ your parents lost you would be a good start." Her sudden anger startled him. Why—  
"How does anyone _lose_ anyone else?" Yni uncharacteristically snapped, but she still sounded candid, somehow. "How did Sis lose—" She bit her lip, turning away, absolutely furious.  
_ Something about her sister?_ he wondered. That was the only thing he could tell.  
He needed to change the subject; fast, if he didn't want her to lash out. "Where's Master Thracia?"  
"Trying to get access to the Senator. Master Tahl won't let her." Her face darkened again. "Master Thracia ranks her and _still_ can't get through! But I can't even—"  
Tears sparkling on her brown lashes, Yni abruptly chomped a hole in her lower lip and struggled to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes a few seconds. When she opened them, she was still struggling, but not out of control. "Ask."  
He opened his mouth.  
"Not that. What you've been wondering all along."  
Lando's mouth snapped shut. He _had_ to tell Luke about this kid. "Why were you smiling when you got Sanley to run out?"  
Yni sighed. "It wasn't _that_." She hesitated. "You see, he avoids that topic like a disease. I'm trying to make him see he's not the same man who killed Si—" She stopped herself, ducking. "I got him to admit what he did aloud. Now he needs to see that he isn't the set thermal detenator anymore, but that's hard because he doesn't know who I am."  
Lando frowned at her. "Yes, he—"  
"He knows _what_ I am, Calrissian; and that's enough to haunt him. The _who_ is worse. For him, anyway, if he ever finds out." She sighed, wiping off her bleeding lip and muttering, "_If_. Right."  
She suddenly stood and strode off.  
  
"Perfect."  
Luke noted Jedi Master Kyp Durron's curiosity in his eye's corner. "What makes you say that?"  
The wounded Mon Calamari, nothing more than skin and bones, looked at him, her big watery eyes unreadable. "It's called sarcasm, Master Luke."  
"How do you know Jedi Veila?" Kyp spoke up.  
"I met her on Telos. She took me in; I helped her with her mission." The Mon Calamari, an Eerin Bant, seemed intrigued by Kyp. "Were you really indwelled by a dead Sith lord?"  
Kyp winced. "Yes. Why?"  
She blinked slowly. "Fascinating…" Eerin addressed Luke, somehow knowing the question he had in mind. "No, Tahiri didn't tell me who she was. I figured it out myself."  
"Any idea where she went?" Tahiri hadn't called in for a week, now. Luke was starting to worry.  
"If I did, would I've come here looking for her?" She eyed him calmly, openly.  
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker chuckled, rubbing his temples. "You'd be surprised what some people do."  
The look she gave him was undoubtedly peculiar. "I doubt that." She rubbed a welt under her left eye. "A former friend of mine did this." Her fingers went to a burn on her bare foot. "A child managed this."  
Luke did a double take. That was a _lightsaber_ burn.  
Eerin shrugged. "I think you'd be surprised by what I've been through, Master Luke." Again, she eyed Kyp with open interest. "Or maybe not." She blinked, gaze returning to Luke. "The Sith lord was dead, correct?"  
He nodded, but warily. Something warned him that he wouldn't like where she was headed.  
"He indwelled Kyp, a living individual. Now suppose," she said thoughtfully. "Suppose someone was able to create a clone with_out_ an essence; an empty body. Entering such a vessel, the Sith lord would then be able to come back to life, would he not?"  
"Whoa." Kyp stared wide-eyed at the girl. "That's some leap of logic."  
"Is it?" She looked at her arms as if affirming her own existence. "Funny."  
Kyp and Luke exchanged a puzzled look. "What?" he asked.  
The Mon Calamari shook her head, smiling slightly. "You'll be surprised, soon. That's all I can say."  
Luke wanted to ask what she meant, but his comm beeped.  
  
A young blonde approached the Jedi Temple, shoulders hunched and bare feet slowly scuffling. She wore an oversized shift, the avocado green matching the tone in her eyes. A wide belt loosely surrounded her waist, bulges along its front indicating where she wore things beneath it. A large caramel pack hung at her side.  
Outside a set of Temple gates, she shook out her head, letting her layered hair fall to her shoulders. Drawing a breath, she stood straighter, raising a hand.  
The gates opened before her.

• • •

Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila stood before the pillar marking the passing of Ulaha Kore, a young Jedi who'd died on the same mission as Anakin.  
"I don't even know why I'm doing this," she said aloud. "It's stupid. But Anakin's back, so maybe you are, too."  
Tahiri paused, checking the Force for any tremor of the female Bith. None. Oh, well. She hadn't known Ulaha that well, anyway.  
She shivered, remembering the sudden silence that had pierced her mind at Ulaha's death, for the Jedi musician had graced the group with one final composition before she died.  
"He said to put this by your marker. I don't know what it is. Maybe it'll help bring you back or something." She squatted, placing the small metal object in front of the pillar.  
Tahiri Veila brushed her bangs back, gazing thoughtfully at her friend's death pillar.  
"Tahiri?"  
She stood abruptly, ignoring the stab of pain to her belly. She'd been sore all night, and now it bothered her whenever she shifted her abs.  
"Hi, Valin."  
Valin Horn stopped before her, face falling. "Tahiri?" he asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"  
She carelessly stepped around him, giving an indifferent shrug. "Nothing."  
He fell into stride beside her. "Where've you been?"  
"Somewhere." She'd decided that no one would get her recent actions from her until someone else was convinced of Anakin's being back.  
"Well… where?"  
"Is that any of your business?" she snapped.  
She felt guilty, watching Valin fall to pieces before her. Tears formed in his eyes. "Tahiri!" he pleaded, getting in her way. "_Why?_ What's gotten into you? What changed? Did _I_ do something—"  
"It wasn't you," the Jedi Knight said kindly. "Don't worry about that."  
"Then _what_?" he cried. She doubted he realized he was shaking her. "_What happened_?"  
The pain in her stomach weakened her knees. Tahiri glared with narrowed eyes over Valin's shoulder until it went away. "I'm sorry, Valin," she said tightly, working to keep the pain from getting into her voice. "It's _me_. That's all I can say."  
When the pain suddenly got worse, Jedi Veila broke away, hurrying into the Jedi Temple.  
Jedi Knight Valin Horn stared forlornly after her.


	17. Fourteen

Author's Note:  
Thanks again, Falcona. :) Sorry about the tiny bit longer wait than usual. Friends' sleepovers, you know.  
A few of one character's thoughts are a little confusing, but they're sort of meant to be, considering she knows things she intentionally doesn't think about the details of, though they do influence her thinking.  
I'm running out of chapters! Argh! (Actually, more like forewarning my readers in case an update doesn't come as fast as they expect one of these days…)  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

"Thank you for coming, Jedi Solo."  
"Of course, Your Highness." Jedi Knight Jacen Solo stood in the midst of Naboo's royal court.  
Queen Ramallia's painted face betrayed no emotion, serene in the midst of her advisors. Her red robes and gold headdress looked heavy. "I am grateful for your protection on this vacation. It is not uncommon for assassins to strike at such a time. Perhaps your presence will prevent a successful attempt."  
He bowed low. "I certainly hope so, Your Highness."  
As he lifted his head, he caught a glimpse of an apparently staring handmaiden from the corner of his eye. Her flaming hood hid her expression from view.  
"Thank you, Jedi Solo." The Queen waved an ornately adorned arm towards an officer. "Captain Ugama will bring you up-to-date."  
As Jacen followed the Naboo captain out, he made a mental note to learn what he could of the Queen and her court, especially her mysteriously cloaked handmaidens.  
  
Face impassive, she calmly ate the gruel placed before her.  
"Ugh!" Sokor looked at her in disgust. "I can't believe you're _eating_ that stuff!"  
She shrugged clumsily. Her other friend eyed her, then swiped the bowl's edge with a finger.  
Wiala licked her finger. "That's not as bad as it looks."  
Sokor laughed. "Speak for yourself. I did try that stuff once—made me sick!"  
"You must have a weak stomach," she answered absently. To be honest, the gruel did smell—and taste—disgusting, but she'd had worse.  
_ Much_ worse.  
She squelched the ensuing worry in the bud. She couldn't risk thinking about that—not now.  
Sokor had been bubbling with contained exitement for the past week. Finally, he was about to share it with them. She looked at her friend.  
"Hey, you guys think you'd be allowed to come on vacation with me?"  
_ Allowed?_ That was something she hadn't been asked in… a very long time. "Of course."  
Wiala flinched. "I can come… but where?"  
Sokor shrugged. "Mom won't tell me. Do you mind?" At Wiala's slow head shake, he turned to her. "Tira?"  
She hesitated. If she left Naboo… "Will there be Jedi?"  
Sokor grinned, and she could tell he'd guessed she'd be the one to ask that question. He lowered his voice. "Get this—_Jacen Solo_. Can you believe it?"  
_ Of course. He's distractible_, she silently replied, careful to shield the thought. It wouldn't do for the Sokor to accidentally pick _that_ up. Having Her Highness wonder about her actual identity was quite enough.  
Wiala politely responded with a headshake, but if Sokor had been expecting an outburst from his two female friends he was sorely disappointed. Tira felt like expending some energy. She stood.  
"Guess who's meeting Jacen Solo!" she called. The room's sudden silence just as suddenly developed into shrieks of crazy teenage—and younger—girls.  
_ Crazy._ Tira winced.  
"What'd you do that for?" complained Sokor as the crowd of gigging and screaming and fainting and blubbering girls pressed around them for details. "I'd like to leave the cafeteria sometime _today_."  
Tira just looked at him. "We will." She turned back to her meal, looking forward to clearing out the girls afterwards. That would be satisfying.  
Miss Harili approached them—tried to, at least. Tira flung her fibercord in the path the woman would take, the crowd jumping out of the way when they heard the cord's _snap_ against the floor._  
_ "Tira?"  
She nodded respectfully at their instructor. "Ma'm?"  
"You have a caller. A Valara Saar?"  
Wiala started, staring with wide eyes at Tira.  
She sighed inwardly. So the girl knew. Standing, she was centimeters taller than either friend. "I'm coming." Afraid of the athlete, the lovesick females cleared out of her way.  
As she strode purposefully towards the school's comm station, Tira thought about the last time she'd spoken to Valara, back…  
A very long time ago.  
Catching herself, she stopped the self-conscious rubbing of her right arm. It had been months since the transfer, but it still felt funny to actually _have_ a limb, there.  
Calling on what little training her mother had given her before her death, she stood loosely ready as she called up the signal.  
A well-preserved though old face stared back at her, the flickering transmission revealing the distance between the communicants.  
"So the fatherless one has returned."  
She nodded deferentially. "Valara Saar."  
The old woman's shrewd gray gaze pierced her keenly, but she showed no discomfort—indeed, felt none. Valara was nothing compared to the Masters both had known.  
"You show me more kindness than I ever have you."  
Tira smiled slightly. "The brat insults what she does not know."  
Again, those steel knives pierced her. "Strong words, coming from an untrained child."  
"Ignorant words, spoken by a half-trained hag," she retorted bluntly. Mentally, she smiled. _If she only knew!_  
Valara had grown in control through the—  
Very long time.  
"I did not call you for your insults," Tira smoothly continued, holding up a hand to halt the woman's reply. Respectfully, she lowered her hand—and her voice. "I need your _help_."  
Valara Saar stared at Tira, struck speechless.  
"I will call you again with a rendevous when I know where I will be," she said quietly.  
The partially trained woman drew a breath, slowly digesting what she'd just heard. The trainees had held no respect for Tira. Valara's helping her now would begin uniting them; or so Tira hoped.  
"I will come."  
Despite the gruff tone, despite the abrupt termination, despite even the sour face, Tira sighed with relief. A victory, ever so small, had been won over Valara's prejudice.  
Smiling slightly, her fingers reached for the door panel.  
Agony ripped through her mind.  
_ Ryoo!_ No_!!!!_  
About to reveal herself, Tira panicked, performing the first fail-safe that came to mind.  
The world exploded.  
  
Jacen found himself oddly reminded of the Chiss library as he probed the library's files. Like those books, Naboo's library was a chore to sift through.  
"Need some help?" Deftly, the handmaiden he'd noticed earlier removed her hood.  
The flaming red hair and sharp green eyes reminded him, oddly enough, of Aunt Mara. But this woman had chopped her hair off around the ears, and her bright eyes matched the leaves outside the window.  
She stepped forward.  
"Ah." Jacen turned back to the holoscreen.  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"You remind me of my aunt." He glanced at her. "She's a predator, too."  
The handmaiden cast back her head and howled with laughter. "_I_'m a predator? You should meet my friends!"  
She settled down with surprising abruptness. "I ask again: need some help?"  
Jacen considered. "Know where I can find out about the Queen's handmaidens?"  
"Like me?" Lithe and petite, she strode around him to a specific drawer. "Here." She handed him something large and heavy.  
A book.  
Jacen sighed. "Is this the only source?"  
"As far as I know."  
The Jedi Knight carried it to a table. Flipping through, he noticed something stuck to the back of a highly damaged page. Carefully, he peeled it off, the dark brown substance holding it to the page flaking off.  
_ Blood._  
An image flashed in his mind—a painted tan-skinned Queen, frantically trying to dispose of this little note in the darkened library as she is found and… murdered, by someone she knows, making sure her blood hides this note as her last act…  
He gently unfolded the crinkly page, the writer's simply elegant hand still visible, if he squinted. He frowned. What could possibly be so important that the Naboo Queen herself would die to hide it?  
Jacen shrugged. The only way to know was to read it.

> _ Sabé has a son!_  
_ She brought him to the Senatorial banquet Mom hosted in honor of Queen Jamillia's birthday. She finally introduced me to her husband, Marson Solo. He suits her perfectly. I said so, and Sabé joked it would take a Jedi to settle me down._  
_ Sabé saw it stung. I know I shouldn't have told her, but living a lie for her is like telling Sola I'm not in love with my bodyguard. We both know I am; my sister has probably even guessed my secret._  
_ I don't just love a Jedi; I've married him._  
_ It's getting a little obvious, I fear; he's getting increasingly possessive. Nonetheless, he still had the presence of mind to tease me when Sabé asked the two of us to be Han's godparents._  
_ The delight in his eyes when he accepted makes me worried. Could I have made the wrong decision with Benji?_  
_ It felt so right, though… And Master Yoda has been urging me to trust my instincts._  
_ My bodyguard happily played peek-a-boo with Han, a sight that warmed me, changing my mind._  
_ I'm not giving Sola our next child._  
_ There's hope for Anakin yet._

Jacen shook his head fiercely, then reread the note.  
"Jedi Solo?" The forgotten handmaiden tapped his shoulder. "You're as white as a sheet."  
He swallowed. "I, uh…" He held it up. "I just found my dad's parents."  
"Really?" The woman sat in the chair beside him, leaning to look at the note—a diary entry, really. "Marson and Sabé Solo, huh?" She read the rest.  
She jumped her feet. "And _Anakin_?"  
The shock and horror in her voice were unmistakable.  
Jacen looked at her. "Do you think I could keep this?"  
It took a minute for the woman to reply. "That would be up to Her Majesty, of course, but…" She shook her head. "There's _another_ Skywalker?"  
"_If_ this is genuine."  
"Well, that's a given."  
When Jacen thought about it, he found the note's contents highly unlikely. To have gone this long, without being found? —Well, dried blood did bother most people. But without Benji trying to contact his Jedi Master brother?  
Unless, of course, Benji was dead.  
Taking care not to damage the brittle paper, he held it lightly in his hand. "Let's go see if I can keep this."  
The handmaiden nodded, leading the way back to the Queen's court. 


	18. Fifteen

Author's Note:  
Thanks again, Falcona. [huge mischievous grin] You're wondering what's going to happen with that, aren't you…?  
Another diary entry coming in 2 more chapters! (If I can get that chapter written, that is. I'm having trouble with it.)  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

"Force-sensitive, you think?" Jedi Master Luke Skywalker rubbed his eyes. A restful night's sleep was nothing but a memory, now. And that memory was increasingly distant. He was starting to see superimposed images of a tortured young Ben Kenobi and some blonde when he was awake, too; and that was particularly disorienting.  
Lando Calrissian shrugged. "Either that, or she has some other form of telepathy. There's something very strange about that kid."  
"Thought you called her about twenty?"  
"She is. But she doesn't act it."  
"How old does she act?"  
He felt the confused realization from Lando. "I can't tell. She… fluxuates, or something. She just seems too young."  
Luke frowned. A lot of unexplained Force enigmas had appeared recently, not the least of which…  
His eyes widened, remembering Eerin Bant. Could these be 'Stanley's old friends?  
He quickly regained control of himself. "I'll look into it," he said with a forced businesslike attitude.  
Lando gave him an odd look, but nodded. "All right, then. See you later?"  
Luke nodded. "Later." He flexed his right hand, the mechanical one. His blue eyes unfocused as he sought 'Dan Stanley's presence. He murmured, "Time to talk."  
  
"Come on, Stanley! You can do better than that!" whooped Jaina, whipping past him as he barely dodged her 'missles'.  
His response came over the comm a few seconds later. "_If you insist._" He twisted away and headed for the debris field. Jaina was certain he'd lied about never flying an XJ3-wing before.  
She followed him to the field, a bit cross. Either he was bluffing, or he had been holding back on her. She had a suspicion it was the latter, and wasn't too happy about it.  
She was right. Jaina gasped. "_Wh_—" How in the galaxy was he pulling _that_ off?!  
The Jedi Knight realized suddenly that people thought the same thing when they saw her fly. His easy manuvering through the thickest of the debris seemed impossible because she'd never seen herself pilot. And she'd bet, if she could see him, he'd be sweating right now.  
Jaina smiled grimly. _Good choice, Lando._  
And plunged in after Stanley.  
  
The door beeped.  
Jedi Master Mara Jade Skywalker paused in struggling a sweater over Ben's head and checked the Force for any readings. "Come in."  
Senator Misti Whitesun's secretary stood there. Her long, billowing green skirt shimmered with gold, falling to her bare ankles. Her tight blouse shimmered pure onyx, keeping her form from being easily determined.  
She didn't move.  
"Come in," Mara repeated, wondering what had brought this young woman to the Skywalker dwelling. Luke had mentioned she was somehow Force-trained. Could the Dark Jedi have decided to attack? She shifted, making sure she had intant access to her lightsaber.  
The secretary handed the Jedi Master a datapad. "My findings," she said tersely. "All leads from the assassination attempt point to Tatooine itself and a decent-sized bounty."  
Mara's confusion must've showed, for she scanned her briskly and added, "Knight Solo asked me to do my own search on Whitesun, Master Jade."  
"Master _Jade_?"  
She shrugged carelessly. "Differentiates between which Skywalker I'm talking about, doesn't it?"  
"You mean Jade _Skywalker_." Mara suddenly realized how the woman's baiting resembled what Vergere had done to Luke.  
The young woman shrewdly met the Jedi Master's gaze. "My mistake."  
"Did you ever meet a Forn named Vergere?" she asked too-nicely. Sometimes these bureaucrats needed to be brought down a notch—  
"Many times."  
She blinked, the secretary's amiable reply catching her off guard. "Where?"  
"You wouldn't believe me."  
"Try me."  
"No."  
The woman left abruptly.  
  
The Force guided him down the hall, lightsaber ready. His neck prickled, hair standing on end. Jedi Master Kyp Durron had known the Force too long not to recognize that someone was in serious trouble.  
A glint of metal caught his eye up ahead, around the corner. _Blaster!_ He jogged forward, raising his lightsaber—  
To a med room's door closing.  
Kyp didn't even hesitate. He charged in, catching the bounty hunter completely off guard. In seconds, the man was disarmed and glaring.  
He hoisted the bounty hunter. "What was your assignment?"  
Then he noticed who that was on the med bed. He nearly dropped his prisoner in his surprise.  
"_Senator Whitesun_?"  
Looking like an emanciated corpse, her eyes fluttered open, completely brown, her dark gray hair shrouding her. "Just dump him out the window," she slurred, but that didn't mean it wasn't an order.  
Kyp looked in shock at the man he held.  
"Let him take a swim."  
A surprised laugh escaped the Jedi Master's lips as he carried the bounty hunter to the window, relieved him of his weapons, and did as the young senator suggested.  
Still chuckling at her sense of humor, he turned back to her to see her draw a breath and say clearly, "You may _go_, Master Durron."  
Kyp froze, staring at the woman. _Impossible!_ His eyes fell to her twitching right hand… _Six fingers…_ And her face… _Virtually expressionless…_  
"Vaping moffs!" he blurted. "You—you're…"  
Senator Misti Whitesun closed her eyes, and when she opened them the green showed, again. "Would you show yourself if you looked like that?" she asked softly.  
Kyp couldn't believe this. Misti Whitesun—_Senator_ Misti Whitesun—wore an oosglith masquer. Had a Yuuzhan Vong organism for a hand. _And the Jedi hadn't even noticed!_  
He still couldn't notice, actually…  
"It gets fatiguing," she commented. "Shielding it from you Jedi. Particularly…"  
He turned in time to see a glint of something on her cheek. _A tear?_  
Kyp swallowed. "Does your… secretary know?"  
"Is that any of your business?" she asked sharply, brown of her eyes blazing. "Really, Durron! You're as bad as your mother!"  
"My _mother_?!"  
"Oh, get out!" she ordered, almost desperately. "Just leave!"  
Coughs racked her tiny frame as he obeyed, and Kyp sincerely hoped he hadn't harmed her. That woman was more than met the eye, but a quick mind-read had revealed one thing.  
She was no spy.  
  
"Oh, Han. You know she was slotted for the scrap heap, anyway—"  
"I don't care! No one else touches _my Falcon_! I'll have Lando's head for this!"  
Leia tried again. "Han—"  
She fell hard to her knees, panic and pain overwhelming her senses. Panic—from Jaina. Pain—from… from…  
"Leia!" Han shook her.  
_ Pain from…_ She opened her eyes, only able to stare dumbly at Han in her shock before she fainted.  
  
Tahiri jumped at someone's hiss. Ignoring the stab to her stomach, she whirled around, spotting Barriss Offee, face contorted in pain.  
"Now what did you go and do that for?" Barriss asked lightly to no one who Tahiri could see, though she looked. She dimly felt Jaina panicking for some reason.  
The dead Jedi turned to Jedi Veila and grinned. "My friend just put himself in the way of a…" She groaned. "Idiot!"  
She glanced at Tahiri. "Him, I mean. She sighed, shaking her head. "What a stupid…" The rest all fell under Barriss's breath.  
Tahiri decided to go check on Jaina. If the Solo twin was panicked…  
She jogged towards the hangar. 


	19. Sixteen

Author's Note:  
_Aaahh_! Just realized I never posted this! (Sorry, guys. I thought I did already.)  
Thanks, Falcona. Not quite dying, and not quite that Anakin. :)  
And thanks for your review, Namonaki Pharaoh. I'm sorry you're confused. My stories are complicated. I'm struggling to write simpler.  
And Master Solo, when you get up to here in reading the story: In the prologue, Ani's already on the Dark Side. He just hasn't left her yet. With his obsession to keep those he loves safe, possession is pretty close to that.  
Next chapter's still in the proofreading stage… I'm having some trouble with it. I think I'll keep the version I have of it, though.  
Here's more on Tenel Ka…  
Anyway, enjoy! :)

* * *

Sixteen

"Get moving!" barked a harsh voice.  
A whip cracked.  
In the dim light ahead of her, Tenel Ka saw the old woman stagger.  
Movement flickered, and a teenage boy helped the woman up.  
"You there! Back in line!"  
"_Tee_!" the boy snapped, apparently not caring that the armed guard was easily double his size. "_Zami ayen yan_—"  
He stopped, calmly returning to his place in line.  
The guard wouldn't let him go, yanking him to the side. "Your sister is _who_?" he demanded.  
"Excuse me, sir," spoke up the teenage girl in front of Tenel Ka. "Isn't obedience more important?"  
The guard blinked, then scowled, shoving the boy back into the line of workers. "She's right," he growled. "You'd better start listening, boy."  
Tenel Ka noticed the boy nudge the girl's shoulder when he was placed in front of her. The girl missed a step, falling between Tenel Ka and the guard.  
Already yelling at the next straggler, he didn't notice.  
Once they'd passed him, the girl stepped back in front of Tenel Ka. "Watch out for slugs," the teen murmured over her shoulder. "You'll be dead before you know you've been bit."  
"Ah. Aha." She nodded slowly, her gray eyes scanning the cavern. She'd been here for at least a few days, but still wasn't quite certain how to handle the situation. Most of the time the guards spoke in some alien language. She fingered the tiny harmless hammer which hung from her belt.  
Like she'd used on Ryloth.  
"Thank you."  
The boy turned to look at her, and Tenel Ka was struck by his knowledgeable blue gaze. "Just stick near us."  
_ Danger!_  
Tenel Ka took a defensive poise, scanning for the—  
The breath knocked out of her, she fell to her knees.  
The girl's brown eyes glared down at her, a dark blonde curl hanging in her face.  
The two teenagers took a shoulder on either side, quickly hauling her down the hall.  
After several minutes, they dropped her by an unmarked wall, getting their own small hammers out.  
"Get started!" hissed the girl, immediately coordinating efforts with her friend.  
Watching them sternly, Tenel Ka rose to her feet.  
"How do you tell the difference between a rancor?"  
"I think she knows that one."  
"Fact." The boy smiled grimly, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "Unless you want to be a Sith's plaything, pretend you can't feel them."  
His friend yelped, dropping her hammer.  
"Sis?"  
His sister smiled wanly, her brown eyes pained. She flicked her hand away, and Tenel Ka's keen gaze glimpsed something small flying off it.  
"Nothing."  
The two teens resumed working, using their hammers to strike weak points simultaneously. Observing them, Tenel Ka noticed that the boy took his cue from his sister. The girl found stress points every time.  
"Ah. Aha."  
Taking her own hammer in her one hand, Queen Mother Tenel Ka joined them.

• • •  


They finished the day's quota in what seemed like record time to Tenel Ka, and even did a little for the next day—'_In case one of us gets beaten_,' the boy had said grimly.  
At first the Queen Mother thought he meant their fast work would result in punishment, but the guards ignored it, apparently used to these two.  
That evening, while they received their 'meals'—her new friends got better fare than most, she noticed—the guards brought down two haggard prisoners. Not to join the miners, but to watch.  
The man's scraggly brown hair and beard looked like they hadn't been tended for awhile, as did the woman's shoulder-length blonde hair. Both were filthy, their clothing tattered.  
He'd faced more abuse than she had, but Tenel Ka had a feeling that he'd accepted beatings on the woman's behalf. His blue eyes skimmed the room and fell closed.  
The woman's keen green gaze perused the cavern, fatigue and pain evident in her brow. She inconspicuously kept her friend from falling.  
The boy hissed. "This isn't right!" He sat in a crouch between Tenel Ka and his sister. Blue eyes hardening, he stood, taking his bowl.  
"Benji!" his sister gasped. "What are you…" Her brown eyes went to the two beaten prisoners, being taunted with the fact that they couldn't do anything to help the miners. Her lips straightened into a tight line, and she wouldn't look at Benji.  
"They aren't our responsibility."  
Benji's eyes were cold. "If they 'aren't our responsibility'," he asked caustically, "what _is_?"  
Tenel Ka suspected what he had planned and handed him her own bowl. He took it without looking at her and crept towards the twosome. She would've taken it herself, but there was no need for two of them to be punished when one would suffice.  
She frowned, checking her motives. Was she letting the fact that he was a male cloud her vision? No, she decided. He knew what he was dealing with. She did not. She resolved to watch the ensuing scene closely.  
"They treat girls differently."  
Tenel Ka looked at the girl, who rocked with her chin on her knees, arms about her legs, eyes closed.  
"There's another way they hurt us."  
Her eyes narrowed at the blonde teen. The girl's austere face told her all. The Queen Mother turned back to Benji and nodded. "Ah. Aha."  
Benji managed to get surprisingly close to the prisoners before a guard noticed him and let out a yell. The boy darted forward, putting the two bowls in the blonde woman's hands and springing back in a reverse handspring, dodging a whiplash.  
The brawny pale-haired guard glowered with cold dark blue eyes as he closed in on his prey. Benji deftly avoided him, face set.  
Tenel Ka frowned. If they didn't want food to be shared, why didn't they take the meals from the two prisoners? And why was only the one guard after Benji?  
Actually, the blonde prisoner looked confused, too; but she nudged her friend and gave him a bowl. They both ate swiftly, she watching him closely and he keeping a blue eye on the guard still chasing Benji.  
Actually, the boy's gymnastics were helping him a surprising amount.  
"The men here rely on strength," her teenage companion said softly. "Agility is the women's goal. Actually, Benji doesn't have anything compared to Tiara De."  
"Tiara De?" A name befitting a Dathomirian warrior woman.  
"A friend," she quietly explained. "One we cannot afford to have captured. The Dark Side has a very firm grip on her."  
"Yet you call her friend?"  
"She fights it." A scowl defended the girl's friend. "But she's emotionally unstable."  
Tenel Ka nodded. "Ah. Ah—"  
A _crack_ and several hissing _snaps _interrupted her. She whipped towards the sound.  
Her face twitched. So the guard had caught Benji. The boy took his punishment well, fighting the urge to cry out.  
The blonde prisoner looked sympathetic and started looking for something. Her keen green gaze didn't stop searching the cavern until they met Tenel Ka's gray. For an instant, the Queen Mother sensed the woman's excessive Force-energy before it was muffled once more.  
The teenage blonde beside her groaned, and Tenel Ka knew she hadn't been the only one to see it.  
Gratefully, the prisoner had the ability and strength to hide it, but that could only work for so long. A Light Side Jedi, trained by some rogue, probably. But the Jedi skills weren't what concerned her.  
That woman was pregnant in the middle of a Dark Side stronghold.


	20. Seventeen

Author's Note:  
Uh… Falcona? You're panicking. I haven't started killing people yet. When I do, it'll begin with a minor character. _Then_ you can worry all you want, okay? ;)  
I am currently 1 chapter ahead of this one in writing, & right after this chapter is another diary entry. If no one can make the connection after this entry, I will be _greatly_ surprised. Sorry about the slowing updates, but I've got to _write_ the story, you know. And proofread, and edit, and [sigh…]  
Enjoy, readers! :)

* * *

Part Two: Allies

* * *

  
  
Chapter Seventeen"_By the Force_!" Jedi Knight Jaina Solo stared in horror at the wreck that was left of Dan Stanley's XJ3-wing. Damage he'd taken for her sake. Damage she hadn't even sensed coming.  
"Jaina?" Tahiri Veila skid to a stop next to her. "You all right?"  
She started shaking, remembering all those times she'd taken her flight into that debris field for practice. All those times she'd been up there with Jag…  
"Jaina." Tahiri took her shoulder and shook her. "Get a hold of yourself!"  
She slapped younger Knight's hand away and backed a few steps. She gulped. "It's a _mine_ field!"  
"The debris field is actually mine field?" Uncle Luke took her other arm.  
_ How does he know what happened?_ She shook the thought off. Of course Uncle Luke knew what happened to her. "Yes," she croaked. "Is he…"  
"He's alive." Strain showed by Uncle Luke's eyes, and he looked at the bloodied mess medics were removing from the wreck's cockpit. "I think."  
"He's alive, all right." A petite humanoid woman scowled at the Jedi Master. "Tell those clutzes to leave him alone before they kill him."  
Beside her, a Human girl chewed her stiff small side braid, her large one pinned up on her head. Her expression was surprisingly childlike. "…Should I get—"  
"Silence, Padawan!" the older woman snapped at her. "Stay out of the way!"  
"But—"  
"Padawan!"  
"But Si—"  
"_Yni Lecarr_!!" the tiny woman bellowed far louder than should have been possible. After a long glare at the young woman, she headed to Stanley's gurney.  
"Yni?" Uncle Luke asked puzzledly. "Are you the girl Lando's been telling me about?"  
The spindly young woman's brandy brown eyes widened, and she glanced wildly at Jaina. "Uh… I… Um… Well…"  
Suddenly, she looked where the humanoid woman had been, noticed she was gone, and absolutley panicked.  
"_Master_?!" She jumped, tripping herself in midair, landing in a heap; scrambled back up; looked frantically around; stumbled _again_…  
"I'm right here, Yni." The woman called from by Stanley. "He's stable." Her eyes looked like little beads as she glanced at Jaina and her uncle. "Now what did you want to tell me?"  
Again, Yni glanced fearfully at Jaina—sidelong, this time. "Sh… shouldn't we…"  
The other woman tapped her foot impatiently. "Yes, Padawan?"  
Suddenly the girl grabbed her head and shrieked. "_Sis_!" She fell to the floor in a heap.  
The humanoid woman kicked her. "Come on, Padawan. Get up." No response. Her tone turned sharp. "Yni Lecarr, this is no time for games! Your sister is _dead_, Yni. She's been _dead_ for years. Now stop this nonsense and let's go."  
Yni groaned. It took a long moment, but she obeyed, casting a resigned smile at Jaina and her uncle.  
"Sometimes the dead can return."  
Jaina looked at Uncle Luke in surprise. Of course they could, theoretically; but why was he stating that as a fact?  
The woman sighed, shaking her head, and looked at the Jedi Master. "Only if they're Force-sensitive, boy."  
"Or if they're moved directly from one body to anoth—_Ow_!" Yni winced at the kick, but didn't rub it or anything. Her face soured. "Excuse me, _Master_; perhaps you'd prefer if I jumped off a cliff!" she snapped.  
"I can think of one young man who might prefer it, at any rate. What were you thinking, bringing up his _wife_?"  
"He's got to face it _some_time—"  
"If that man recognizes you—"  
"I _don't care_!" The woman's outburst seemed to shock her caretaker silent. "I _don't care_ if Palpatine realizes his archenemy had a dufus for a baby sister, all right? I _don't care_ if the Sith torture me to death! I just _don't care_!"  
Yni gave a slight laugh, shaking her head. "The _only_ reason I am here… is so… _she_… can live again. Do you remember what she once was? Have you seen the shell that's left now? A shell that's left unfilled because she fears it'll crack, instead?"  
"The Senator is none of your concern, Yni—"  
"My _name_ is _not Yni_!" the girl screamed, face red.  
"Padawan," the woman said warningly, beginning to get angry, herself.  
Breathing heavily, she glared at her Master, blood pounding. "None of my concern?" growled Yni. "So Vergere isn't yours?"  
The humanoid woman stepped back as if slapped. "Padawan!"  
"Thracia Cho Leem." A tall well-built man put a hand on her shoulder, his long brown hair pulled back, his blue gaze sympathetic. "Give your apprentice some breathing room. She feels responsible for… Stanley's… accident."  
"I should've warned him!" Yni agreed in a tiny voice, kicking the floor. "I should've—"  
"Ah, young one." The man moved to Yni, lifting her chin so she'd have to look up. "He knew what he was getting in to. He's been piloting since he could walk." He guided Yni towards the gurney. "Come. Let's see what we can do to help his recovery."  
For some reason this insulted Thracia Cho Leem. "Excuse me—"  
"Oh, go kill a Sith."  
"Not funny!" The woman grabbed his arm to be easily shaken off. "This is _my_ patient!"  
Yni snorted and hid a smile. Her Master glowered at her, and the man looked amused. "Yes, young one?"  
She looked shy, and glanced over at Jaina and her uncle, again. She cleared her throat. "It's just that Anakin once said—"  
"_Anakin_?!" Uncle Luke joined them. "You know him as Anakin?"  
Jaina was lost. So 'Dan Stanley' actually had the same name as her grandfather and brother? Tahiri looked intrigued, though.  
The girl continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Anakin once said if he had a choice between having Barriss or Master Cho Leem as his Healer, he'd rather have his brain picked."  
The man chuckled. "That sounds like him, all right."  
"Uh…" Everyone looked at Tahiri, who blushed. "I can go get Barriss, if you want."  
He smiled at her. "You must be Tahiri. Please do." Tahiri bowed and ran off.  
"I'm Luke Skywalker. This is my niece, Jaina Solo."  
The man nodded respectfully at them, an amused quirk to his lips. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Luke, then at Stanley.  
"I know who he really is, if that's what you're asking."  
"Do you, really?" His smile widened at Uncle Luke's nod. He turned abruptly to Yni. "Who _is_ your sister, anyway?"  
"That's none of your business!" Thracia Cho Leem grabbed her 'Padawan's arm and started dragging the girl away.  
Yni acted out getting stabbed in the chest and nodded in his direction as she was pulled out of sight.  
He had gotten very still. "Oh."  
"Oh, wh—" A tan-skinned brunette with regular gray streaks in her hair blushed and bowed respectfully. "Forgive me—"  
"See to Anakin." The man nodded at Luke to follow him as he headed out, hitching Jaina's arm in the process.  
She tried to writhe away, but it didn't work. "Let me go!"  
"You need to eat something." The man's long strides didn't falter. She had trouble keeping up. "Can you give Barriss access to your healing facilities?"  
"Of course." Uncle Luke looked curious. "Are you… an old friend?" he asked hesitantly.  
A regretful grin appeared on the man's face. "I'm the one who got him off Tatooine." 


	21. Diary Entry 3

Author's Note:  
C'mon, somebody. Make a guess as to who this is! Who does this person _sound_ like?  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

DIARY ENTRY 3

He's here.  
I, Me, is worried; terrified, even. I know what he can do, how he can be, when he's not himself.  
Is he back?  
I don't know. I'm afraid to even check. His presence here was a shock enough—startled me into letting me remember myself. If I check him…  
He'll know.  
…Maybe.  
I can't risk it. Among my five me's, I have to worry about Yuuzhan Vong, Dark Fallanassi, droidekas, bounty hunters, and Hutts. Sith want Me, but only as a bargaining chip, since normal people are so much easier to catch than Jedi.  
I'm not normal, though.  
If I check him, and he's still—still not himself, then…  
The Sith will want me for my abilities.  
I cannot kill my husband.


	22. Eighteen

Author's Note:  
Sorry about making it complicated, Falcona. That's a flaw of mine. …Uh, I've looked over everything & I don't see how I 'shot that down'.  
Next chapter is currently a blank page, and I have to upgrade my system software today. Next chapter might be awhile in coming. Sorry.  
More on Queen Ramallia, the handmaidens, and Sokor and his friends in this chapter. This chapter also has my logic in what I've done with the Fallanassi, for those who've read the Black Fleet Crisis trilogy.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Eighteen

"Your Majesty?"  
Queen Ramallia ignored him, brushing past him as she moved quickly down the marble halls.  
"Her son's coming," the redheaded handmaiden explained. "One of his friends is hurt."  
"Her Highness is married?"  
"Was."  
"Oh." Jedi Knight Jacen Solo jogged beside the woman. "Uh, I've been thinking…"  
"Yes?" She breathed easily.  
"What's your name?"  
Her lips quirked as her green eyes appraised him. "Clee Rhara."  
"Okay." Jacen ducked into a hangar after the Queen.  
He and Rhara simultaneously stopped.  
Medics milled about a small vessel. Queen Ramallia stood to the side, her arms about a teenage boy. A petite girl stood beside him, little for her age.  
Jacen moved forward. "May I see the patient?"  
Begrudgingly, the nurses stepped aside. He reached into the Force, examining the dark-haired girl.  
He frowned. "There's nothing wrong with her."  
"But look at this." The doctor pointed to a monitor. "She's in shock."  
Jacen checked again. "No, she isn't." At their raised eyebrows, he explained. "If she was, she'd be jumbled. Her mind's completely lucid."  
"Really?" The small preteen came to his side. "How can you tell?"  
"It's the Force," he explained.  
"Of course; but how can you tell?" A small, angular face looked at him, her features softened just enough not to protrude.  
When Jacen looked away, he realized he couldn't remember her features, only her dark eyes. She was using the Force to blur her face?  
"Perhaps _where_ do you tell would make more sense."  
The Jedi Knight hesitated, but decided he might as well show her. "Here." Relaxing in the Force, he smoothly checked the patient's mind, slower than he had last time. Although he probed lightly for it, he couldn't isolate the girl's Force presence.  
Interesting.  
At least she _existed_ in the Force… something Jacen was relieved to find. Yuuzhan Vong were voids in the Force to Jedi senses.  
"Wiala."  
Jacen started. The patient had awakened, already on her feet with the monitors ripped off.  
"Tira!" The Queen's son ran forward. "What happened?"  
Unflinching, Tira looked at him, her hand on her other friend's arm. "Excuse me, Sokor."  
Sokor stopped abruptly. "Uh… okay."  
Though Tira moved away, Jacen could still hear her low words.  
"_Geehar zoshi teen_. _Tie shiro ayen._"  
Wiala stiffened, her eyes warily checking the room. Her responding murmur was lost to Jacen.  
Nodding tersely, Tira turned, nodding deferentially. "Your Highness."  
"Sokor." Queen Ramallia's strong voice hinted at warmth. "I don't believe I know these two."  
"Oh, right." Running a hand over his unkempt hair, Sokor pulled the smaller girl forward. "This is Wiala."  
"Your Majesty," murmured Wiala, curtseying in her plain brown gown.  
Sokor's other friend was taller and stronger. He settled for slapping her on the shoulder. "And this is Tira."  
"Your Highness," she politely repeated. "_Shawn ayen_."  
"She's honored to meet you," Wiala spoke up quickly, giving Tira a worried look. Nervousness radiated from her. "Would you stick to Basic, please? That—that— I'm not supposed to know that."  
"Sorry." Though gruff, Tira did sound apologetic. "I thought Her Highness might know her great-great grandmother's tongue."  
Queen Ramallia chuckled. "That's a far ways off, Tira."  
"Is it?" Her frank reply was unnerving. She carelessly brushed the doctor's hands aside, smoothly stepping from his reach. "I am fine."  
"You're in _shock_."  
Tira's impassive face grew cold. "I am not."  
"Just let me see—"  
"No."  
The doctor grabbed her arm.  
"_No_!" Hissing, Tira kicked the doctor full in the chest, sending him sprawling.  
Standing straight and unemotional once more, she calmly met the man's shocked gaze. "Means _no_."  
Before anyone could respond, Tira glided from the room, eating up the meters with long, fluid strides, reminding him of _someone_…  
Sokor awkwardly cleared his throat. "I, uh, guess I'd better go after her."   
"Fact."  
Jacen looked at Wiala in surprise. Had it been his imagination, or had she just been eyeing him?  
The two teens hurried after their friend.  
Wiala's reply to Sokor, however, had made Jacen realize who Tira reminded him of.  
Tenel Ka.  
  
She kicked off her shoes, breaking into a smooth, barefooted run.  
"There is no emotion; there is peace."  
She pulled off her brown academy dress. Her skintight black top was sleeveless and showed everything below her breastbone. The matching shorts went mere centimeters down her thigh.  
Both gleamed wickedly in the hall light.  
"There is no ignorance; there is knowledge."  
She fluidly took something from her belt, scarce glancing at it before putting it away. Her fingers sought something inside her belt.  
"There is no passion; there is serenity."  
She stopped abruptly, unflinching as the double doors slammed shut behind her. A shadow flickered, drawing closer…  
Her arms out in front of her, her hands grasped a black cylinder.  
A golden shaft of light appeared from the bottom.  
"There is no death. There is the Force."  
  
"So… Where are you from?"  
The handmaiden leaned back, sprawling out on the couch. She met his gaze directly. "Do you mind? Until the vacation begins and I can be on flight escort, I'm on night shift."  
"Of course not." Jacen curiously watched Clee Rhara gracefully stretch and curl up on some of Queen Ramallia's sitting-room furniture.  
Once comfortable, Rhara surprised him by replying, "I _was_ from Coruscant."  
The Jedi Knight hesitated, remembering his time on the Yuuzhan Vong-altered Coruscant; now an entirely different world, Yuuzhan'tar. "Me, too."  
"Those Vong things are creepy."  
"_Yuuzhan_ Vong!" another handmaiden sing-songed, surprising the two of them with her presence. The blonde grinned at Rhara. "Surely you know _that_ much; don't you, Little Clee?"  
Jacen looked confusedly from one woman to the other, trying to figure out… They looked about the same age, but the blonde handmaiden spoke to Rhara as if the redhead was much younger than she was.  
"I think he's trying to place your age, Yadmi."  
Yadmi howled with laughter. "Who _isn't_ working on that one?" Within a second, she was sober again. Yadmi sighed. "I feel _too_ old, Little Clee; I'm wearing thin."  
"All those brainwashings you've had to overcome, I don't doubt." Clee Rhara didn't sound too concerned. "And then you're what, four times Luke Skywalker's age?"  
"Don't rub it in!" Yadmi hissed. "You're as old as him, yourself!"  
Rhara yawned. "At least I don't trick my bosses."  
"No, you just stay out of your two best friends' way so you don't see anything you might have to report!" the blonde snapped. "Thracia Cho Leem married, didn't she?"  
Rhara sat up. "She also quit while she remained such. Good day." The redhead resettled into the couch. "Unless you'd like the night shift back."  
"If we're both alive in another three months, maybe." Tone dry, the blonde's curls stayed neatly in place as she lit a wooden pipe, resting it lightly in her mouth.  
"Don't do that in here." Rhara had opened one eye. "It's disgusting."  
"So is mechanical grease—you know, the kind you needed a blind Jedi to identify for you."  
"What's wrong with that?" the redhead asked sharply. "Tahl had marvelous informational skills. She's the one who identified the saboteur; if she used her sense of smell instead of her lost eyesight, so much the better. Now, _good day_, Yadmi."  
Rhara glared over at her. "Unless you'd like me to tell Solo your _real_ name." When that didn't seem enough to worry the other handmaiden, she added, "Title included."  
The blonde left silently, so swiftly that Jacen's turn only caught a glimpse of her leaving the room.  
"Uh… I think I'll go, too." Jacen didn't want to irritate the Queen's redheaded bodyguard any further.  
"Thank you… Jedi Solo."  
Remembering who Clee Rhara reminded him of, Jacen decided against staying long enough to say 'you're welcome'.  
  
_ Parry, slash—duck, roll under an overadjusted blow—leap, strike_…  
These, and much more complicated moves, echoed in her mind. Together with the standard, her mother's Vaapad and her father's Dark Side skills fought for superiority.  
She grit her teeth, determined not to give in to her father's teachings. …All she'd known the first two years of her life.  
It didn't help that her mother's superior fighting techniques had come from an aspect of the Force bordering the Dark Side, itself.  
Known to Sith as Kiacha, she struck out at her enemy, determined to keep this Dark Fallanassi from Her Majesty. Wiala was no fighter—that the girl's uncle sent this low of an opponent proved this.  
If only the young man wasn't so blasted good at defending himself.  
The Fallanassi Sith's offensives, however, were absolute _chiargáth_.  
Kiacha shook her head. No—she wouldn't do that! When her mother had rescued her from her father, that had been the only language she'd known: Sith.  
She could revert to her early habits, if she wasn't careful. Fifty years wasn't _really_ all that long… considering her parentage.  
Not everyone could claim a few centuries-old father and a mother who'd borne her at… what? Seventy, at least.  
Or two parents who'd been on the old Jedi Order's Council.  
Or that both parents had murdered Jedi… though with her mother, that had been completely a matter of others controlling her mind. In shock because she'd somehow failed to kill herself, Mother had come to her senses in her archenemy's bed—at five months pregnant. Married to him.  
As she sought to land a blow that would in the least disable her opponent, Kiacha wondered what in the galaxy was wrong with Jedi. They knew of the White Circle.  
Wouldn't it follow that there must be a Dark Circle?


	23. Nineteen

Author's Note:  
Falcona, I'm still not seeing how directing you to more hints on someone's identity is 'shooting a guess down', but sorry if I came across that way. You were right about the shaper. :) I would've e-mailed that (in fact, I've tried) but for some reason I can't send email, anymore; only receive.  
Thanks, DarkSith—Uh, do you mind if I don't put that last part? I'm still trying to figure out what I think of _angel_'s common usage… Anyway, I'm immensely relieved that people besides my friends and their parents like my stuff. :)  
This came faster than I expected. I need another RAM card before I can update my system.

Chapter content: mainly Tahiri, Luke & Kyp talking to (different) odd people.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Nineteen

_ Vreep! Vreep! Vreep! Vreep!_  
She groaned. _Stupid alarm!_ Eyes squeezed shut, Tahiri rolled over and slapped the alarm off. The sudden pain in her stomach took her breath away.  
_ I need more exercise._  
Squinting, she opened her eyes. She had to do something about that impersonal gray paint.  
Her comm beeped.  
Sighing, she got carefully out of bed and answered. "Jedi Veila."  
"Tahiri? It's Barriss. Meet you for breakfast?"  
She almost laughed. A dead Jedi asking her for breakfast. She could see Jaina throwing a fit._ Yeah, and you've _married_ a dead Jedi, genius._  
That thought soured her humor. "Why?"  
"Don't you want to hear how grandpa's doing?"  
"Very funny." When Tahiri thought about it, she realized she didn't even know this woman. "And I think Master Skywalker should get that report."  
"That's why I'm giving it to you."  
Tahiri wondered if Barriss was one of those who wasn't fazed by anything. "Why don't _you_ give it to Master Luke?"  
"Me? Like I'd be able to get in the same _room_ as him!"  
"What do you mean?" Getting irritated by this conversation, Tahiri found herself snapping.  
Silence came over the comm for several seconds before Barriss spoke again, and then tentatively. "Breakfast? This'll be easier in person."  
Tahiri scowled, but realized breakfast with someone who'd known Anakin Skywalker pre-Darth Vader could be anything but uninteresting.  
"Fine." Peeved at Barriss's success, she slapped off the comm and flopped back on the bed. After a moment, she groaned and smacked the comm back on. "Where?"  
"Pick a place. I'll meet you." Before Tahiri could reply, the dead woman continued, "It'll be on me."  
This time, Barriss cut the connection.  
_ Pick a place. I'll meet you._ Tahiri frowned. What was the woman, a telepath?  
  
"All right! What Force mumbo-jumbo happened?"  
Jedi Master Luke Skywalker turned to face his friend. "Han?"  
Glaring, Han pointed accusingly at him. "Some Force thing put Leia in a coma last night!"  
"A coma?" Luke frowned. "Hm. The shock of it, probably."  
"What shock? What happened?"  
"Jaina nearly had a heart attack, and her fellow pilot nearly killed himself to spare her." He spoke with a straight face. "You want more details, ask Leia when she's better."  
When Luke thought about it, Leia's reaction to Father's Force-presence wasn't all that surprising. After all, he'd been startled, and he'd both had warning and known, already. He guessed he could start worrying if she didn't wake up in a few days.  
Han's anger shot upward. "Look, kid—"  
"Han, the only one who can describe what happened is Leia herself. I only know of a few things I experienced and am, as you can see, unaffected by."  
_ Liar_, old Ben's voice coughed in his mind, and he smiled. "I don't know what exactly Leia experienced to affect her like it has."  
_ She probably doesn't, either._ Luke coughed slightly to avoid a larger smile.  
"Excuse me, Solo," the friend of Senator Whitesun's secretary stood in the doorway behind Han. "Could you please excuse us?" Enforcing his words with a mild pressure to the shoulder, the man soon had Han Solo out the door, and shut it.  
Slowly, the tall man turned to face Luke, calm and collected. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn."  
"Jedi Master Luke Skywalker," he returned, lips quirked, "But I'm sure you already know that."  
Master Jinn nodded in reply, brow furrowed. "I… have noticed you have some… different practices, than the old Order."  
Luke hid a smile as he waved the man to a chair. "So, what do you want to critique? Our marriages? Our Council? Our children…?"  
Apparently surprised, Master Jinn gave him a measuring look.  
"Vergere gave me a reprimand, already, you see."  
"_Vergere_?" The man's blue eyes lit up and twinkled, his lips turning up at the edges. "Critiquing Jedi children? Really?"  
"Is that surprising?"  
The dead Jedi Master drew a breath. "Not really," he admitted. "But Vergere's Master—her… instructor—left the Order several times for the sole purpose of having children. The woman tried to convince her old classmate to do the same. Jedi Master and senior Council member Mace Windu." He shook his head. "No ground given there."  
If he hadn't felt his father's Force-energy himself, he would've thought he was going crazy, trusting this man. "Who was Vergere's Master?"  
"Thracia Cho Leem."  
"Thracia… ?" asked Luke, but he remembered. _'None of my concern? So Vergere isn't yours?'_ Yni had snapped. "You mean…"  
"Vergere was Thracia's apprentice." A wry smile showed that Master Jinn didn't mind his questions. "Once Vergere passed training, she was free to take an apprentice—your nephew, I've heard—and Thracia was freed to train another. Recently she chose Yni Lecarr."  
The man's face grew distant. "Of course, that is only if the Council approves, and… and if the Jedi desires an apprentice," he finished quietly.  
Luke was intrigued, but any response he could have made was interrupted by Master Jinn's commlink. "Yes?"  
"_Qui-Gon?_"  
Luke watched the dead Jedi Master's face become a mask as Senator Whitesun's secretary spoke his name.  
"What is it?"  
Silence.  
Finally, "_…I'm sorry, Qui-Gon._" A trace of gentleness came through.  
"Tahl?" Concerned, his knuckles turned white from clenching the commlink.  
"_I've found your… I've found your former Master._"  
Alarm showed on the man's face. "He isn't with you, is he?"  
The secretary laughed wryly. "_I'm not that overconfident, Qui-Gon. He's on Ryloth."_ She paused. _"…I think. Anyway, you were the one assigned to write that report for the Council."_  
Luke's jaw dropped. "The old Council's back, too?"  
"_Many of them. For now, at least._" Tahl sounded vaguely amused. "_Now if a particular Jedi Master would obey his mandate…_"  
"Of course I will." Master Qui-Gon Jinn smiled fondly. "I'll be right over, Tahl."  
"_I should hope so,_" was her dry response, and he clicked off his commlink.  
"I have to go, I'm afraid. Tahl's the only reason I was here in the first place." He hesitated. "That is to say, I needed her informational skills as a resource."  
Luke could tell the other man was immensely embarrassed. "That's all right. I wouldn't think it of you—I know about the old Order's 'no attachments' rule."  
"I see." If anything, Luke's encouraging statement discomfited Master Jinn even more. "She is… an old friend of mine. I'd appreciate it if someone kept an eye on her and the Senator."  
Luke nodded. "Of course."  
As he watched Master Jinn leave, he couldn't help but feel his opportunity to learn about the old Order went with him.  
  
"Didn't I tell you to leave?"  
Jedi Master Kyp Durron turned from the window to face the woman in the bed. "That was last time I entered."  
Her eyes narrowed at him, stress lines creasing their edges. Senator Whitesun had suffered from cardiac arrest about the time a critically wounded young pilot had been wheeled into the next room. In all the commotion, she was lucky a doctor had noticed.  
"Luck is a myth," she said bitterly.  
Kyp grinned at her. "Hey, now. Just because you've had it a little worse than most—"  
"Quit while you're ahead, Durron." Her eyes closed, she let herself lie in her pillow.  
His smile dissolved. What in the galaxy did _that_ mean? He sighed. By the Force politicians were frustrating!  
"I'm here as your bodyguard." He'd toss it straight to her, see how she responded.  
Misti Whitesun was suddenly supporting herself on two straight, wavering arms, alarmed. "On whose behest?"  
He raised his hands placatingly. "Peace, Senator. You're in mortal danger. That's enough of a 'behest' for me."  
Slowly, she lowered herself back into bed, studying him every centimeter of the way. "And is it your practice to search for an endangered being and assist it?"  
"Sometimes." He grinned again.  
Inexplicably, Senator Misti Whitesun flopped her pillow on her face and groaned.  
Had he not known better, he would've thought she'd said _'Not again…'_

* * *

Author's Note:  
The Vergere/Thracia thing is actually _not_ of my making. Thracia's a Healer, a peer of Mace Windu's, who keeps leaving the Order to have kids and returning to pester Mace into having some, himself. …Though she vanishes after she gives young Anakin some advice in _Rogue Planet_…  
If I'm messing up on Kyp or anybody, please tell me. I'm not feeling too comfortable with how I manage some of these characters.  
…You _do_ know the review button's there for a reason, right? :)  
  



	24. Twenty

Okay, Falcona:  
Actually, you've seen Dooku, already. Think back to a very diplomatic Dark Jedi surprised by a new Order Jedi saying she was something political. Anyway, he returns in… if I'm counting right & don't change my pattern, 6 more chapters.  
Obi-Wan's already back. He's talking to Luke, for Force's sake! (And you've seen him, but you'll find that out this chapter.) Yoda may or may not return. I haven't decided yet.  
About your question… :) Can you count? Remember Diary Entry 2? 2&2=_5_. So, that's: Tayun, Nonni, Nashira, M— _and_… herself! And recall Diary Entry 3? Right after guess-who gets hurt, she panics into recovering herself. So, her old betrayed self is who she calls "I, Me." So who's M—? Uh, you've already met her. Several times. It's who she is _at this moment_, which is why she doesn't want to reveal it. But if you don't make that final connection to who our beloved Sith pawn is hiding as, the next chapter will be a dead giveaway because it has something from M—'s perspective.  
  
Author's Note:  
Readers, I APOLOGIZE for my previous note right here. I don't know where that came from. I was obviously not thinking that day. By using 'vulgarisms' I meant 'slang'. Not vulgar language. Argh! Forgive me. I've gone back & edited & fixed some things that came out wrong. Minor phraseology, mostly. ErrÉ I've realized I've failed to mention that 'Tira's Sith father did marry her mother since her insanity would keep her from denying consent  
I have had a writing spree last night and today so the next chapter has a roughdraft. Apparently, my subconscious has decided it's had enough of this blindfold stuff, and my readers are going to get to meet some of the mysterious folks.  
Only _some_, though.  
If you ask, I might humor you with something from a specific person… or not. But go ahead and ask if you want something from someone's perspective. There are a few people I can think of with which I wouldn't mind doing so, though I probably won't choose them on my own.  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Twenty

Something was up.  
Tenel Ka kept an eye on the approaching figure as she worked. At her side, Benji and his sister exchanged a look.  
A familiar-seeming young woman mockingly bowed to her. "Your Highness."  
"So you're to be a harlot again." The girl said conversationally as she calmly sought the ore, her dark eyes glancing every so often to the slightly older teen. "Maybe your child'll be Force-sensitive, this time."  
The young woman angrily drew herself up, ready to lash at the blonde. In that instant, Tenel Ka chilled with recognition.  
The old woman who'd captured her.  
"Aw, sis." Benji smirked disarmingly, his tone teasing. "You know we love you."  
The now-young woman flared, lashing out at her younger sister. "D— you, Pooja! You'll join me, I swear!"  
Pooja snorted disdainfully. "When a Human pilots a podracer—oh, wait! That's already happened!" Her overly innocent face showed that she hadn't forgotten. "Make that a mynock, then."  
Benji snickered, and the older sister stormed away.  
Disbelievingly, the Queen Mother turned to Benji, finding him smirking at her. "Would you believe me if I say we're a lot older than we look?"  
After seeing his other sister firsthand, Tenel Ka had no choice.  
  
_ Liar,_ he sent to Luke in mid-cough, amused. He smiled slightly when he heard the boy say he didn't know what had happened to Leia. _She probably doesn't, either._  
"Stop that."  
He turned towards the soft voice, unable to look at her because of their back-to-back restraints. "Stop what?"  
"Talking to Luke like that. I… You'd better not die on me, Oafy-Wan 'cause I'll drag you out of here by your ears if I have to, you Gundark!"  
Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled sadly in the cold dark cell. She was nervous, all right. "But which life will you get me on, Siri?"  
He heard her gulp. "I don't know, and I don't care! We'll get out of this blasted Sith-and-ghost-filled nuthouse!" Her voice cracked, and the rest was quieter. "Even if I have to donate my midi-chlorians."  
Obi-Wan tested his Force connection. "Thank you, but I won't do that to you. When I lose them I'll manage."  
She choked. "Obi-Wan—"  
"Just knowing it can happen will be an invaluable lesson for Jedi. At least we know midi-chlorians die with each revival."  
"Yeah, and when will they be done with you? _Why_ are they doing this to you? Why you? Why not me?"  
"I don't know," he admitted.  
"That's just it! We don't know _anything_! Besides Dooku and Ryoo, we don't know who any of these people _are_!"  
Anxiety and frustration and restrained anger rolled through her. He leaned back into her. "_Siri_…" he said consolingly. "_You_ asked if we wanted to try this, remember."  
"Well when you commented on how well the new Order's Jedi couples worked, I thought you meant their marriages, not how each of them had one or both parties captured at some point."  
"…I did," he said, smiling fondly in the dark. Poor Siri. She hadn't quite been herself since they'd started the executing-reviving process with him. He supposed feeling the death and rebirth of their bond so many times must be disorienting.  
Actually, when he thought about it, she'd been acting mildly strange before that, too.  
He frowned. "Siri?"  
"Yes, Gundark?"  
How could someone make insults affectionate? She could. "Are you all right?"  
"Of course not!" she retorted. "We're stuck in a Dark Jedi camp, without any knowledge of where we are or who our captors are or what they want with us; you're dying; I'm running out of energy; and I _can't_ _run out of energy, blast it_!"  
The force in the last bit of her outburst startled him. She shook violently, pulling him back. He wished he wasn't tied. "Siri…"  
_ Obi-Wan!_  
He opened his mouth to protest that she should be conserving her Force-energy.  
_ I'm pregnant!_  
  
"Cold?"  
Queen Mother Tenel Ka merely returned his questioning blue gaze. From the same culture she was, he understood.  
_ I will manage._  
He looked over his shoulder at his sister, returning from some escapade.  
"Find anything?"  
Pooja's brown eyes seemed saddened. "Yes, Benji," she said softly. "I did."  
Kneeling, she put the furry animal before her brother. She shuddered, turning away and putting her face in her hands. "By the Force, be quick!" she cried.  
Tenel Ka was surprised. Pooja didn't strike her as being overly sentimental—  
Before he'd killed the animal, Benji's hand slipped. It sprang from his grasp, moaning as it crawled onto Pooja's lap.  
The girl began to weep, cradling it in her arms. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and seemed about to repeat herself when she froze.  
Slowly, Pooja looked down at the creature, her fingers stroking its temple. "I'll take care of your babies," she said weakly as it died. "I promise."  
She handed the carcass to her brother and stood, face set. "I'm getting her litter."  
"She told you where it was?" At his sister's mute nod, Benji continued. "Hurry. If anyone notices our camp breaking twice, tonight…"  
Pooja nodded tersely, quickly checked around, and scurried away.  
Meanwhile, Benji worked on skinning the animal his life-sensitive sister had caught for Tenel Ka.  
She looked hard at the teenage boy. The 'knife' Benji used to swiftly skin the animal was a modified version of a weapon Tenel Ka knew well.  
A lightsaber. 


	25. TwentyOne

Author's Note:  
Regarding your question, Falcona, the answer is blatantly in this chapter. The 'why's will be answered as she has more contact with Jedi and has to dodge more questions. With the should-be-dead Jedi… Well, if you're back from the dead, there's no reason a clone body can't do some of the same things an original can, like childbearing. Yes, there are drawbacks if you go too fast, too soon (as you'll find out eventually from Tahiri); but Siri isn't the only one who has thought the new Order's polocies might be fun to try. —Well, obviously since it takes two to have a baby. In fact, she and her companion mention how the proposal went; but I'll clarify that when they explain it to someone. (Siri Tachi is from the Jedi Apprentice & Jedi Quest series.)  
Next few chapters have a roughdraft. The next one has a scene with Anakin, Jr. & his 'delicate' 'favor'.

Been wondering why a certain woman didn't want 'Dan Stanley' to contact Kyp? Find out, this chapter!  
Jedi Apprentice readers who hated _The Death of Hope_ might like this chapter. _Do not take anything the wrong way about Qui-Gon's daydreams!_ I'd explain more, but that's hard to do without giving their not-as-obvious-as-you-think purpose away. I'll just say they're a necessary bit of foreshadowing.  
Those who are wondering who's writing those diary entries should enjoy this chapter, as well. (Hint: watch the names.)  
Enjoy! :)

* * *

Twenty-One

"C'mon, freak," irritably muttered Jedi Knight Tahiri Veila. "You said you'd find me."  
But then, she _had_ done her best to make it hard for Barriss to track…  
"Aha!" Grinning, the dead Jedi scooted into the seat across from Tahiri, in the same loose black tunic as always. "Told you I'd meet you." She waved at a waiter. "So, what do you want, kid?"  
Tahiri began to retort that she wasn't a kid, but remembered that this woman had been a peer of Master Skywalker's father. "Uh…"  
"Naboo Special—make that two, with Lakeside tea."  
Her jaw snapped shut when she realized the woman had just ordered for her. "Excuse me—"  
"What?" Barriss asked mischievously, eyes glinting. "Don't you trust me?"  
"No!"  
Her impish smile widened. "Good," she said quietly, calmly straightening the napkins on their table. This small diner was very cozy.  
Tahiri blinked. "What?"  
Barriss didn't bat an eyelid, still sedately straightening napkins. "It's good you don't trust me. It'll help when some Dark Jedi show up who once were old Order Jedi."  
"Like Anakin Skywalker?"  
"No." The dead woman didn't spare her a glance. "Like those who had no remorse for what they did and would do it again in a heartbeat." She flicked a speck off the table. "Speaking of Anakin, he's stable in a healing trance and should be back to full physical health in a few weeks."  
Tahiri's head shot up. "_Weeks_?"  
Barriss shrugged. "Let's just say healing isn't one of his strengths, and I'm not going to make it easier for him. He has to be able to heal himself without a rogue Healer trotting after him all the time."  
Jedi Veila froze. "Rogue?"  
"I married and had kids. That's rogue behavior, by my Order's standards." She took her tea directly from the waiter and sipped it, then put the mug on the table, hands wrapped around it. She drew a breath. "Speaking of my kids…"  
Tahiri waited. "…Yes?" she finally prodded.  
Barriss sighed and shook her head. "No, let's just talk about the one. The one living."  
She waited some more. "Yes?" the young Jedi Knight prodded again. The dead woman was uncomfortable, but she didn't care. She wanted to know why the Healer couldn't tell Master Skywalker his father's condition, herself.  
More tea was sipped before Barriss worked up the courage to continue. "I'm not sure if you've heard any of the… stories, about me, but…"  
Her lips twisted into an odd quirk. "Another reason it's going to take Anakin so long to heal is that I'm not actually a Healer."  
She swallowed more tea. "I'm a _psychological_ Healer. A psychiatrist, basically." She tossed her gray-streaked dark hair. "But even then, I'm only an Apprentice. I never took the trials."  
Tahiri was completely lost. "Huh? Trials?"  
"The trials to become a Knight. Technically, I'm still a Jedi Apprentice. A Padawan Learner." She sighed. "Everything happened so fast in the Clone Wars, so many promotions and—and such, that… that when… that when my Master died, I got overlooked. So when the Jedi Purge happened, the Sith sort of overlooked me, too."  
Her lips quirked. "Of course, it helped that I knew Anakin's in-laws…"  
Tahiri frowned. "What's this have to do with your kid?"  
Barriss smiled tightly. "My son takes after me, in my abilities. I'm… concerned about how he'd react if he saw me."  
"Your son?"  
The Naboo Specials arrived, and the dead Jedi immediately stuck her fork in it and took a bite. She chewed carefully before swallowing and clarifying:  
"Kyp."  
  
He ran his hands over the familiar console, tears forming in his eyes.  
Not that he would've admitted it. "Aw, girl," he murmured. "What'd you go and quit on me, for?"  
Han Solo's gaze was drawn to a difference in the cockpit. He shot out of his pilot's seat and scrutinized the discrepancy. Someone had tampered with his _Falcon_!  
He glowered at the exposed wiring. He would _never_ trust Lando, again.  
  
Luke stopped beside the hospital bed, looking worriedly at the still figure who lay there.  
"Leia?" he asked softly. "You hear me?"  
His sister didn't respond.  
The Jedi Master nodded to himself. "Follow your own advice," he quietly told himself, and left.  
  
He hated reports.  
Qui-Gon sighed, rubbing his temples. Just a little more to finish before his transport time. He could do it and nap in transit.

> > > _ Green-and-gold striped eyes flashed merrily, their owner laughing. She fell over on the bed, her billowing nightdress almost transluscent, revealing her skin; smooth perfect skin, the color of dark honey._  
_ He drew closer. She didn't stop laughing, gaze amused. He nuzzled her dark tresses, feeling her through the nightgown's fabric against his chest—_

He shook himself, mouth suddenly dry. _Such fantasies_, he chid himself, taking a sip of his tea. He couldn't afford to think of things like that. _Attachment is forbidden_, he reminded himself sternly.  
Qui-Gon didn't like these images. It almost made him think Tahl was hiding something from him, they were so real.  
She _was_ nervous around him; but then both of them knew their feelings for each other were something more. What to do about it was having to wait until they adapted to living, again.

> > > _ "Qui-Gon!" she shrieked like a small child as he tickled her. She swung at him, but he caught her arm and twisted it, pulling her with her back against him._  
_ She struggled half-heartedly. He leaned his head towards hersÉ;_

He slammed his datapad on the cafeteria table, making his tea mug shake. "_Sithspit_!" he muttered, frustrated. He felt like a Padawan, again; unable to control his thoughts.  
"What's wrong with you?" Jedi Knight Jaina Solo sat across from him. She looked so much like her grandmother and like her grandfather's mother it was almost painful.  
Jaina hadn't taken after either of them in their height, he noted with amusement. That would be the Solo side.  
Qui-Gon smiled slightly and nodded respectfully at her, aware he looked her age. "Just some realistic dreams I can't forget."  
The girl scowled, suspicious. "Ever meet Master Durron?"  
"No." He'd never heard the surname before, actually.  
Jaina looked down at her meal, embarrassed. "Sorry. It's just that sounds like what happened to me when I was recovering from a Force wipe he gave me." She shrugged, completely oblivious to his frozen face. "Not that I can say that's what it is, of course."  
"Who could?"  
"Cilghal. Maybe Tekli. Jacen, probably. Just ask a Healer."  
He nodded. "I'll do—"  
His commlink interrupted him. He activated it. "Yes?"  
"_You're late, Qui-Gon_," came the sour reply.  
He glanced at his chrono. _Force!_ "Apologies. I'll be there shortly." He hastily stood. How had time passed so quickly?  
_ Because you were fantasizing about Tahl._  
He contained his frustration.  
Jaina waved him away, swallowing a bite. "I'll take care of your mug."  
He smiled and bowed. "Thank you, Knight Solo."  
Qui-Gon made a mental note to renew her acquaintance when he returned to Mon Cal.  
  
Jedi Master Kyp Durron stared at the still-incapacitated Senator. His head swam, dots forming in his vision.  
He blinked. He couldn't sleep yet; he had to wait for her to wake up—to convince her to officially request Jedi security. Since the Hutts were trying to get rid of Tatooine's senator, she needed the best guardians possible.  
Unfortunately, even Jedi Masters needed to sleep, sometimes…  
  
_ He's asleep._  
_ Are you sure?  
Yes, Tayun.  
How do you know?  
Does it matter? I know._  
Testily, Senator Misti Whitesun swung herself out from the hospital bed, giving Master Durron a hard look to satisfy _her_. _Happy?  
…Sorry. I don't mean to question—  
Yes, you do.  
Well, you're the one who knew the Hutts were coming and wouldn't tell your bodyguard!_  
She sighed, leaning her forehead against the wall. Tayun domain Kwaad sounded just like her baby sister, sometimes…  
_ We have a baby sister?  
I did.  
Belik tu?_  
She shook the confused persona from her surface thoughts. If she didn't fear that Tayun would get herself killed, she'd just let her have control. She closed her eyes. _If only things were that simple… but no, they're not. I'm a Jedi bodyguard's nightmare._  
Frowning, she mentally asked Terra to flex. The Yuuzhan Vong creature did so. The Senator's brow creased. _ That doesn't feel right…_  
Making a quick gasp, she restrained herself. _Whatever you are,_ she told the feeling, _please don't be the future!_ She didn't want to lose Terra. It wasn't her fault the Warmaster had taken… Misti's… hand.  
_ I am Misti Whitesun,_ she reminded herself sternly.  
_ Were you ever anyone else?_  
Ignoring her companion's bewilderment, she silently tapped the door control. It hissed open, but a mild Force-nudge ensured that Durron didn't hear it. He was much like his mother.  
_ You knew his mother?  
Shut up._  
_ She_ obeyed, as always. She wondered what the Master Shaper who'd created the one within her would have thought had he known the infidel had been the persona he'd taught. Not Tayun.  
She stepped out the door, restraining such useless speculation. Her 'master' was dead. Debating the 'what ifs' only hurt the one who worried about them in hindsight.  
And Misti knew that full well.  
At this hour, she had to be careful to avoid people. She moved swiftly, silently, as she had—  
_ I cannot go there,_ she warned herself sternly. She had to stay in control.  
Suddenly, she found herself trapped. Her eyes narrowed, blaring brown, as she debated her options. She felt beings in the rooms around her, and this room would soon be entered, so…  
She swiftly climbed out the window. She grit her teeth, clinging to supports with closed eyes from the pain. She could make it to her office. She had to.  
Her face settled into an expression of grim determination.  
And the wounded Senator climbed. 


	26. Royal Thoughts

Author's Note:

I was thinking that peek into how Queen Ramallia thinks of herself, etc., would make the next chapter that much more understandable. Please let me know if it helps, hurts, or doesn't do anything.

In other words, _review & tell me what you think of this section_!

Thank you. :)

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**Royal Thoughts:**

**A peek into the thoughts of Queen Ramallia.**

Once upon a nightmare, I was born.

You think I'm kidding?

I was the worst thing to ever happen to my mother. She can't stand the sight of me. I suppose it's justified... I can hardly tolerate her, myself. She would've gladly killed me as an infant. Now she takes my children and uses them for her purposes.

She took one, anyway. She doesn't know about Sokor. I won't let her find him. I'll sooner die.

He has no idea who his friends are. They can defend him better than Jedi Solo can me, I daresay, if through questionable methods.

I wonder if I'm crazy... I must be, I realize, if I trust that "Tira" with the life of my son. Her own best friends don't trust her not to murder them in a fit of rage. I've seen Uncle Ben flee for his life at her eyes' flash.

Wiala doesn't seem bothered, though, so I'm guessing there's more to Tira's fits than a lack of control.

Or not. Wiala's mother isn't exactly known for her wisdom. Impassivity and madcap schemes, yes. But safety?

I have no choice but to trust her, though. What will I do? Tell Jedi Rhara or Solo my son is a target for Shadow Academy? For the Sith? Sokor doesn't even know he's Force-sensitive. ...He doesn't know he has a half-sister, either. Or who my parents were.

_I_'d rather not know who my parents were.

But some things can't be helped.

My existence is one of them. That the Sith are after Naboo is another. But how to prevent it, short of calling in formerly dead Jedi for assistance? _I_ cannot do that. I don't know who's safe, who would accept me; much less how to contact them.

But... I think I know who _could_...


	27. TwentyTwo

Author's Note:

Thank you, reviewers! :) Eh... You still out there?

I sincerely apologize, readers. I had a writing ethics crisis over the summer and had to resolve some things before continuing everything. If you check you'll find I've edited certain things out of the previous chapters.

I also have learned that "Misti Whitesun"s scars are a physical impossibility, but I haven't changed that, yet. They have to be white, and a Force-choke wouldn't leave any marks. Too bad I hadn't asked my friend studying nursing _before_ writing that section...

So, good news: I can start posting, again. Bad news: real life has kicked in full throttle. I expect updates to be few and far between, maybe a few weeks between them. I have the next few chapters written, but I'm not yet sure if I want to rewrite them or not...

I've figured out where I'm going to end "Comeback", & then I'll write a sequel. I'll give you more details as created & needed or asked for.

The promised glimpse of Anakin Solo's "delicate" mission is here.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-TWO**

"Hey, Mom!" Sokor darted through Queen Ramallia's entourage of bodyguards. "Have you seen Tira?"

Wiala froze abruptly, causing Jacen to stumble over her. "She wasn't in the cafeteria."

Sokor shook his head, his dark hair wild, his eyes worried. "I haven't seen her since she woke up."

"I thought you went to find her," Jacen commented.

"I did, but Wiala and I have no idea where she went or where to look for her."

Queen Ramallia frowned at her son and stood serenely. "Then we must wait until she is found to leave."

"Unnecessary."

All looked at Queen Ramallia's blonde handmaiden, Yadmi. Her face was a study in absolute carelessness, smoking contentedly on the old pipe.

"Heads up!"

Wiala ducked as Tira landed among the mostly-startled party, a contented air to her hard face. "Who's this?" She tossed her petite friend a small object.

Wiala examined it, her face getting chalk white within moments. Eyes darting around, she dropped it in a pocket, Jacen guessed. "Hardin."

A maliciously pleased twist appeared on her lips. "_Chiargáth_. Absolute _chi_—" Tira's face blanked.

"_Chiargáth_?" a frowning Wiala asked. "What's that?"

Tira stiffened, ignoring her friend's question.

"Tira." Yadmi calmly removed the pipe from her mouth, her tone of both amusement and mild rebuke. "There are _children_ here, you know."

"That so?" the tall teen gritted, muscles taut. Abruptly she leapt up, hung a moment from a light fixture, and dropped back to the ground, looking at and flexing her right arm as if it was new. Her dark eyes blazed, narrowing at Yadmi. "I know," she muttered.

Jacen gave Tira an odd glance. Had it been his imagination, or had she glanced at _him_ when she said that?

Yadmi returned the pipe to her mouth, her hazel eyes scrutinizing Tira as they continued down the hall, headed for the vessel that would take them to wherever Her Majesty had selected to go for her vacation.

The blonde's lips tugged downward. "Hmph."

Jacen looked from one to the other. Was he was missing something?

He was brought back from wondering by a hoarse chuckle from Yadmi. "Hardin's _chiargáth_," he overheard her murmur as she nodded to herself. "Only a Billaba."

Somehow, Jedi Knight Jacen Solo knew better than to ask.

* * *

_Chiargáth_.

Queen Ramallia suppressed a shudder. She remembered that word. One her birth mother had said.

_Did_ say.

Ramallia glanced over at Yadmi. She knew the blonde handmaiden's secret.

More than even the Jedi Knight knew.

Ramallia found herself watching Clee Rhara. Since she'd taken custody of the note, Rhara hadn't mentioned a thing about the other Skywalker. Of course—the dead Jedi wouldn't want to call attention to herself like that. If Rhara seemed to know Anakin Skywalker personally, she'd be considered insane. Just that morning, in fact, Ramallia'd had to order her captain not to worry about Rhara's birth certificate.

Yadmi didn't seem too concerned about being found, though.

Ramallia, in her forties, had been Palpatine's first child. Thankfully, she lacked Force-sensitivity and her parents had ditched her in the Naboo palace. Named for her great-aunt, Ramallia had been raised by the Naboo officials, her origins gradually fading from memory.

Not hers, though.

She had Yadmi to thank for a few of the others' forgetfulness. The woman, a repeatedly brainwashed Jedi Master, had served as her great-aunt's handmaiden when _she_ had been Queen.

Only then Yadmi'd been Eirtaé.

Ramallia had half expected some dead Jedi to return. She remembered her birth mother, gloating over helping Palpatine force her aunt's essence into clone bodies so he could repeatedly execute her. Ramallia was the only normal one left who remembered her great-aunt.

Former Naboo Queen and Senator Padmé Amidala.

But _Tira_, not Yadmi, had said _chiargáth_... Was she a Sith foundling, too?

* * *

The Dark Fallanassi was gone, but a worse enemy had come.

Kiacha looked up at the light fixtures, so easy to climb; so easy, and yet...

She shook her head and grabbed Jedi Solo's arm.

"Hey! Wh—"

Before he realized what she was doing she'd swung him around behind her and used his momentum to leap towards the Queen.

"_Chiargáth_, 'Tira'?"

"Fact." Voice harsh, she stared dispassionately at the Queen. The fool. Did she think her calling for Jedi assistance would be overlooked by her parents?

Suddenly, Queen Ramallia whirled towards her, eyes widened in fearful realization. "You're... They're _here_??!!" The old woman collapsed, to everyone's bewilderment.

She snorted, disgusted. She widened her stance, refusing to move out of any would-be helpers' ways. "I'm assuming you've never told Sokor."

"Well you obviously haven't either, foundling!"

She raised an eyebrow. "My mother was a Jedi. Yours is a Sith. I prefer my senario, thank you."

Everyone was shocked—except Master Chayunda, of course, who smoked her pipe with a dour smile. "You must admit: Ramallia does have the advantage."

Everyone gave the threesome plenty of room while the Queen and girl looked at the handmaiden.

Who shrugged. "She does lack your emotional instability."

"Mom? Tira? Am I missing something?"

She ignored Sokor, glaring meaningfully at his mother.

The Queen regained some of her dignity. "Since you obviously know whose I am, may I ask whose you are?"

A legitimate question. But she had run out of time. She glanced over the Queen's shoulder towards the hangar. The ship that had been going to take them on the mystery vacation awaited them. But it was going to keep waiting.

The hangar door began to open from the outside. She knew who came for them—came for _her_—

Kiacha darted in the opposite direction, through the group, and disappeared.

* * *

"You asked to see me?" His voice squeaked, and he mentally cringed. Did they really have to stare at him so intently?

"We examine everyone in this manner, young Solo." He jumped, surprised one of the ones behind him had spoken. Normally it was just those in— _...Oh._

Anakin Solo bowed. "I apologize. I am not used to such intense... scrutiny from so many Masters at once."

"But you have received it, before." Her face was expressionless as she glanced across the circle at the main speaker—Master, uh, Window or something—but he thought he picked up on a _'you see?'_ in her tone.

"Yes, Ma'm."

"Master, please."

"Yes, Ma'm—I mean yes, Master."

He thought he saw an amused glint in her eye as he came up from that bow, but dismissed it as his imagination. This female Master was even more austere than the other two. She had just spoken to him for the first time in his time here. Not looking at her, he turned back to Master... Window.

"Do you distinguish between genders in your Order, Solo?"

Anakin flushed as he turned back towards the woman. "No, but since my uncle is in charge I kind of know all the Masters pretty well."

"Because of your uncle or because of you getting in trouble?" asked an alien one, skin pink and ridged forehead tall.

"My uncle!" he said quickly, startled. Then he thought about the question asked and reddened. "Mostly."

"Known to be reckless, are you?"

He turned a bit to the left and bowed to the female brown-haired little green... thing. "Uh... Sort of."

"Sort of?" the third female asked, her exotic headdress still. Her blue eyes narrowed at him, skin not quite as dark as Master Window's. "Explain."

_Vaping Moffs! I'll make them disgusted with Uncle Luke when they've never met him! Why not come right out and tell them about Master Durron?_

He heard the female Master behind him stiffen.

Master Window shot her a glance. "Depa?"

"It's nothing."

All the Masters looked meaningfully at that one woman, Depa. Anakin also watched, making sure to remain respectful in his curiosity.

Head bowed forward, her chin-length dark hair hid her expression. She mutely shook her head slighly.

Master Window strode over to her and lifted her chin, not letting her pull away. "Depa—"

She leapt over her seat and landed behind it, head bowed. "Yes, Master?" she asked weakly, voice slightly mocking. "I am a grown woman, now, Mace."

The pink-skinned alien stirred. "Master Windu—"

_Windu. Not window._ Anakin sighed with relief about not having to find out his mistake the hard way.

"Yes, Master Ki?"

"I suggest we wait until after we are finished with young Solo to question Master Billaba on what ails her."

"I concur," the dark-skinned Human female agreed.

The little green woman made a _hrumph_ sound. "Concur with you I do not. Disrupt this Council, Master Billaba's ailment does. Worse than she says it is it must be, no?"

Master Billaba's face twitched. "Yaddle—"

"She has a point." Anakin wanted to bang his head against something. Why was he getting into this? Irritating Jedi Master Depa Billaba, a model old Order Jedi?

The woman began a coughing fit which vanished just as suddenly as it started. She coughed one last time and resumed her seat, absolutely devoid of emotion. "It has passed. Let us continue."

As the session reluctantly resumed, her dark brown eyes bored into him. He gulped. He had a bad feeling about this...

* * *

Author's Reminder:

Remember, you have to review for me to update!


	28. TwentyThree

Author's Note:

Whoa! Thanks, guys. When I updated this last week I thought you all had forgotten me—:(—but, nah. It was God's providence, considering I needed to fix some pertinent flaws in that chapter. So... Here's the next one. Falcona, you should like this—more Misti [cough—you-know-who]. :)

And a new reader! (Well, one that reviewed, anyway.) Yay! :) (I'm wondering, though, why no one's leaving any negative reviews. There's gotta be _somebody_ who can see flaws in this or outright doesn't like it… :? )

Namonaki Pharoh, no, Anakin Jr.'s situation is certainly _not_ fun. But don't worry—it gets worse! :D You asked me to update ASAP, so here you are… but I can assure you ASAP won't always be this quickly!

Yippee! Falcona, still letting me know what details stick out to you! :) Who's the extra? :) Tell me a story you've written and I'll review, sir.

[dropped jaw] Wow, Penguin Monk! You noticed! I thought that was just going to be one of those things no one paid attention to until after they know who/what/etc. she is. It's a composite side affect involving— Well, I think I'll have to wait till the sequel to reveal the complete story behind that. Remind me, okay? ;)

If anyone's freaking 'cause I'm already mentioning a sequel, don't worry about any soon-coming ending. I have _plenty_ of ground to cover in this one, yet!

More Yni in this chapter!

And Tahiri meeting Barriss is just going to be your normal I-don't-trust-you-so-I'm-gonna-make-you-feel-unwelcome spiff, right? —Do I need to answer that? This _is_ Tahiri... (& the explanation of why she's so bubbly is still on the way. I haven't forgotten. ;)

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-THREE**

_Vreeeep... Access denied._

_Vreeeep... Access denied._

_...Access denied..._

Senator Misti Whitesun stared brown blaster bolts at her computer terminal. Fatigued and gaunt, she glanced warily about.

She closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she looked back at the screen.

She tried one last time.

"Access planet royal library: Naboo."

_Passcode needed._

The Tatooinian Senator hesitated only a second before firmly typing a code.

She bowed her head, eyes closed once more. The final part came reluctantly.

_Access confirmed._

Senator Whitesun searched the files.

* * *

Someone skid to a stop right next to him. "Luke! Have you seen Senator Whitesun?"

"No. I've been meaning to go see her." Jedi Master Luke Skywalker frowned. "What's wrong, Kyp? Isn't she in bed?"

Master Durron shook his head. "No! I was there guarding her, but I fell asleep. When I awoke, she was gone!"

Luke frowned. What would a politician be so interested in doing that she'd sneak out of medcare to do it?

He corrected his thoughts. What would _Senator Whitesun_ do?

"I think," he said after a moment. "You should check her office."

* * *

"Where are you going?"

Lando Calrissian started, nearly dropping his pack. He stared a moment at the speaker before getting a hold of himself. "Home."

"Oh." Yni Lecarr sat down, one leg straight out, the other up, and she rested her chin on her knee. She'd tied her hair up, today—all but that odd little side braid, that is.

He didn't go up his ship's ramp. "Why do you sit like that?"

"Like what? This?" She frowned and shrugged. "I dunno. It's comfy."

She popped her neck and put her head back on her knee. "I know a Twi'lek; she sits like this, sort of." She straightened her back and put her bent knee down as if she was sitting cross-legged. "She's a Hutt's bodyguard, so she pretends to be his..." Her face scrunched. "Whatever those ones Hutts keep closest to them are."

Lando didn't feel like educating her. "Oh? Why is she guarding him?"

Yni's brandy brown eyes were innocent as she beamed. "He's a nice Hutt—really! He's helping her find out how to help her Master recover!"

The girl gasped and covered her mouth, looking hastily around, face guilty.

He was still trying not to laugh at the thought of a 'nice Hutt'. "Master Thracia isn't here."

"That's not the problem," she whispered, still sending scared looks around the hangar. This wasn't any fear-of-animals look—she was terrified of something far worse.

"Yni?"

She threw his arm off her shoulder, suddenly on her feet and in a defensive crouch. What she scanned for, he had no idea.

"What is it?"

She dove at him, sending him to the floor as a bright orange lightsaber buzzed through where he'd stood to where her head had been.

"Sithspit!" she cried, frustrated.

_What?_ _That_ was a new one.

The lightsaber didn't even hit the floor. It hovered a moment, deactivated, then flew back the way it had come. It landed in a man's palm.

"Lecarr. A fine name. Tell me. Have you any relation to _Lelila_ Lecarr?"

"Maybe." Yni kept between them. She discreetly nudged Lando towards his ship, chattering as she did so. "Let's see..." She counted on her fingers. "You're a Dark Jedi, black-haired, green-eyed, have a thing about my last name, and got a cute bum. Let me guess..." Her face brightened. "Gerin Jade?"

Lando stifled a laugh at her last 'note'. He'd seen enough of her to know that kind of thinking was absolutely foreign to her. He realized he was in the presence of a very clever eccentric.

The man's jade eyes—_like Mara's!_—glowed menacingly, and he ignited his blade.

A huff escaped Yni, but she smiled weakly immediately afterward. "You, uh..."

'Gerin Jade' waved his lightsaber menacingly.

"Do know..."

"Know what?" he growled, stepping forward.

"I'm a freak!" she yelled happily as she dodged underneath him and landed a kick on his foreleg.

He immediately compensated, but she somehow got out of the way, though even Lando could tell it wasn't by any grace on her part. "Oh, dear!"; "_Omf_!"; "Aw, Sith!"; and "Not wizard!" were a few of the yelps she produced. Nonetheless, she managed to get to her feet unharmed.

_Mostly_ unharmed, Lando quickly corrected, spotting the burn that skimmed her arm. He carefully took a step towards the docking ramp—

The Dark Jedi swiped at him, driving him away from his ship.

Lando debated his situation. There had to be some way to get out of this...

Unfortunately, any possible options escaped him.

* * *

"I told you it would be on me, now give me that reciept!"

"No!" Tahiri cheerily replied. She'd found out how fun it was to tease this dead Jedi. "I need to use up the money my husband left me before someone notices it in my account."

Apprentice Healer Barriss Offee—_cough_, Durron—rolled her eyes. "Then go on a shopping spree! Buy jewelry! New clothes! Gifts!"

Jedi Veila grinned mischievously and tossed Barriss the receipt. "Great idea! I'll get you something colorful to wear!"

For some reason the dead woman turned bright red. "Absolutely not!" she snapped.

"Why not? Emperor's bones, you wear _black_ all the time!"

"That's because—" Barriss closed her eyes and huffed. "You and Solo were made for each other."

"Thanks!" Waiting until just after she'd paid, Tahiri grabbed her arm and dragged her from the counter and out the door.

"Stop! Knight Veila this is absolutely _absurd_—"

"Right! _Knight_ Veila, and _you_'re a lowly Padawan." She grinned.

Durron's jaw dropped. "You're pulling _rank_ on me?"

_Talk about prime! She accepts it! I've gotta tell Anakin about this!_ She just met the woman's dark gaze.

Barriss groaned. "But I'm Mirialan!"

"So?"

"If I wear a color I'll be advertising!"

Tahiri shrugged. "It's not as though you're a virgin." Dark eyes glared at her. "I mean, you _did_ have two kids—"

"In my original body, yes!"

Passersby were trying not to stare at this episode between a young semi-famous Jedi and an obviously deranged stranger.

Barriss abruptly whirled on the observers. "I am _not_ insane!"

She took a scolding stance. "Now, you know better, Durron—"

"Tahiri—"

"Durron!" she shouted gleefully. "Durr—"

Barriss leapt on her back and stuck her arm in the blonde Jedi Knight's mouth. Tahiri struggled, but the dead Padawan knew more about hand-to-hand combat than she did and Tahiri ended up being thrown into a far wall without any Force assistance.

Offee-Durron's smooth transition into calm observance suggested it had been a part of her training. The woman removed her black cloak and smoothed her matching tunic.

She tossed her head as the caught off-guard Knight Veila regained her feet.

"I thought you said you were a Healer."

Barriss didn't flinch. "With or without lightsabers?"

"Huh?"

"Since you insist on resolving this the old-fashioned way."

After seeing the riled dead Jedi a moment earlier, Tahiri wondered where this overly stern woman had come from. "Uh... with?"

A slight nod in her direction, and Barriss had her yellow lightsaber out and ignited.

Tahiri blinked. She hadn't seen where that had come from. She stood warily, pulling out her own lightsaber and thumbing the activation switch.

Barriss lifted her hilt lengthwise to her forehead and bowed. Though left-handed, Knight Veila copied the gesture, trying not to show her surprise at the dead Jedi's use of rituals in battle.

"This isn't a battle, Tahiri." A deft movement, and Barriss had her blade ready to strike, her face unmoving. "But don't think I don't know how to whup your pretty little bottom hard enough for your husband to seek my hide."

"But—but you're a Healer!" she sputtered.

Barriss's eyes narrowed at her. "Rules: though Forceplay is acceptable, maiming your opponent is not. If your control is slipping, say something or only spar with training sabers."

Done quoting, she added, "Oh, and 'Forceplay' includes kata."

Tahiri froze. "Kata?"

Suddenly Barriss sprung a swirling diagonal kick to her chest, the momentum carrying the Apprentice's lightsaber after it, though the blade abruptly reversed its attack. Still startled by the kick, Tahiri rolled out of the way and leapt to her feet, panting already from her searing stomach.

She had a bad feeling about this 'kata'.

* * *

Author's Reminder:

Review, please! The more, the happier I get & the faster I want to update! :)


	29. TwentyFour

Author's Note:

Here I go, again, until I run out of chapters.

Falcona! :) Glad to see you still like this enough to be a quick reviewer, even after two months' leave. & I'm on your "Author Alert Watch List", now! Does that mean your "siblings" are reading this, too? • So you like Yni, huh? She's meant to be amusing. There wasn't any conscious connection to Jar Jar... I was just thinking with Jedi & Padm's grace & Obi-Wan's being considered a clutz when younger, it would be highly amusing to have someone who actually _was_ extraordinarily clumsy. • I see you like Tahiri, too. [breathes a sigh of relief] I have almost as much trouble writing her as I do Siri... • I hate to break it to you, but I have a decent amount of ground to cover before I can return to Anakin1. I'll do my best to get that father-son time in there, for you; but no promises. Exactly how long it will be before it will depend on how the chapters work out. This _is_ still a work-in-progress. It's the first time I've had an end in mind, though...

If anyone would please tell me what their favorite scene types & characters are [ex. Anakin/Tahiri scenes; Benji] & which ones they can hardly (or can't) stand, I would be most obliged.

Why Luke & Leia's older brother's never contacted them is indirectly referred to in this chapter. Obi-Wan learns that someone he once knew is among the powerful of his captors. There's more, too; but to refer to it would ruin its impact.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-FOUR**

* * *

• • • • • • • • • •

_A dark cavern._

_He entered cautiously, checking to make sure they weren't following, and entered._

They? Who's they?

_His dream self didn't answer, intent only on escaping their notice. He curled himself up inside the foul hole, hiding..._

Why am I hiding?

..._lest they find him. They already had his sister._

Oh. That 'they'.

_Did they have his brother, too?_

Uh... What brother?

_He hoped Mom had made it out in time. She would've been delerious as soon as they killed Sis._

Huh??!!

_Sis's death was bad enough—but if they killed his brother, too..._

Will this make sense?!

_His brother was too important, in charge of too much to go. Sis had retired a while back. Things would move on. But his brother was helping his group keep on the New Republic's good side._

Is this talking about who I think it is? 'Cause it's really freaking me out.

_They didn't know who Mom was... yet. If they found her, they'd use her against Dad. Maybe even get him to lose control._

Okay. This has lost me.

_He had to keep them from Mom. He had to distract them so she could get away. Alone. Tiara De would be provided for. The Jedi would see to it._

Uh... Where's _Pooja_ in all of this?

_He readied his lightsaber in his palm._

Since when did I have a lightsaber?

_He rubbed the cold metal. Its hodgepodged appearance came from the variety of scraps he'd made it from. Mom had helped him with it. His nephew—_

What nephew? I have a _grand_nephew...

—_had checked the crystals for him._

Uh...

_He avoided Dad. His brother and sister were already being used as collateral. He didn't need to be._

_He reached out to the Force to Tiara De, giving her life-energy a farewell caress..._

Caress?

_Momently extending it even farther to the other—_

Other what? What other?

—_he then muffled his midi-chlorians and plunged into the nightmare._

• • • • • • • • • •

"I thought you _were_ a nightmare!" he complained as he awoke.

He looked around the the dark cavern. Silent, but for snores and nightly sounds...

Benji shook his head. "Whatever."

He settled down and went back to sleep.

* * *

He groaned, grateful all Luke sensed was his presence, not his pain or the repeated death-revival cycle.

"Obi-Wan!" Siri darted to his side. The observing guards laughed. She took him in her arms, supporting him as he found his weak Force-connection and used it to help the pain.

"You got a nice girl, Jedi," drawled the brawny one who'd punished the boy who'd given them a meal. He reached for Siri's cheek. "Maybe I could borrow her, awhile."

She snapped at him, teeth clacking together, glowering.

Laughter rewarded them.

"Karak!" a female's sharp voice whiplashed. "That's it! You're getting assigned!"

Karak whirled on the petite woman—_Oh Force, Ryoo!_—and spat. "I don't answer to you, you—"

"But you _do_ answer to me."

A chill ran down his spine. A petite female adolescent stepped into the doorway. Her coffee-colored hair had two ecru stripes centered in the hair on either side of her face.

Her skinsuit was black—a dark, shimmering, jet. Although it fit snugly, what the smooth fit revealed only seemed to _detract_ from any possible appeal. Her body was hardened muscle; but hard in an intimidating way, more fearsome than seductive. Her face, even, was a study of detachment—emotions showed, but were held under a tight reign. The eight-centimeter heels on her boots made up for her lack of height.

Obi-Wan knew he'd never seen this figure before. He also knew her Force-presence and voice were alarmingly familiar.

He grabbed Siri's arm, keeping her close His brow furrowed, he watched the woman. She was dangerous, but where in the galaxy did he know her from?

"Dismissed."

All the guards scrambled to obey, Ryoo included. His concern leapt up, and he felt Siri stiffen.

The woman hadn't moved, but now she came forward. "Obi-Wan. It has been far too long." Ice still filled her voice.

He thought fast through all the many people he'd gotten on the wrong side of over the years and couldn't match this woman to anyone. Someone's kid, maybe?

She helped Siri up and passed her three lightsabers.

_Three?_

"You'll have to be quick about getting out of here." She yanked him to his feet with more strength than a female of her size should possess, even with her muscle definition. "If you get caught, say Minor Mistress wanted to see just how much trouble two Jedi could be and released you."

"And when you're caught faking orders?" Siri asked stonily.

A flame passed through the nameless woman's eye when she looked at Siri. "Faking? I _am_ Minor Mistress."

"May we at least have the name of our assistant?"

For some reason, she found that deleriously funny. She grinned and laughed—albeit quietly as she guided them down the hall. "We were the Young. We were everyone." When he didn't make the connection, she raised an eyebrow. "Don't you remember your little helper?"

"...Roenni?" he asked hesitantly. He remembered the cheerful little girl who'd helped him those years ago. And she held power, here? _Surely not—_

"Yeah, I'm a Sith witch," she said lightly. "Sent to Melinda/Daan to kill any Jedi who showed—and the government if they worked with you—but _no_. All that preparation on Melinda/Daan and I didn't see one Jedi."

Obi-Wan started. He knew as a fact that Roenni had possessed full access to all three Jedi who had been on Melinda/Daan, _and_ to the Jedi-supporting government.

She smiled like one who's used to dealing out death. "Don't feel bad about being fooled." She patted him on the shoulder, mischief in her smile and eyes. Siri bristled, but Roenni then put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a slight wink. "It runs in the family."

Siri scowled, about to ask; but suddenly realization flashed in her eyes and her jaw dropped. "You don't mean..."

"I am a member of the Fallanassi royal line. I'll never rule, though. I'm too aggressive; and besides, there are enough potential heiresses from..." She gave Siri a quizzical glance. "What was that name you came up with for her? Commander..."

He frowned as Siri nodded slowly, a conspiring quirk to her lips.

"Misti Whitesun."

* * *

"_Tee_!"

Queen Mother Tenel Ka kept working, ignoring the guards' shouts, as she always did.

Something bashed into the back of her head. She landed hard on her face, stunned.

The guard kicked her over and hefted her by her tunic's front. "You!"

After a moment of searing pain, Tenel Ka was able to focus on the guard. His shaggy flaxen hair nearly hid his unnaturally dark blue eyes' leer. "What're you doing here?"

Removing his hand, she shrugged, turning to return to work.

He moved forward, pinning her, back to the wall. "Wanna leave?"

Tenel Ka stonily met his gaze, her voice frigid. "No." Not in the way he meant, at least.

The guard pressed closer, undaunted. "_No_?" he asked, insulted. "Who's your man?"

Even had she wanted to, she couldn't reply. The guard pressed closer—

Tenel Ka struggled. "Unhand me!" she demanded, her one hand not enough to stop the guard.

"Karak!" a sharp voice interrupted.

Karak shoved her back as he pivoted to face the speaker. Her head's lump met the wall. Dizzy pain kept her from looking at the speaker, but she recognized the voice.

Benji's other sister.

"If you want a prisoner, take her properly."

"But she's—"

A _crack_ rang out. "She's _mine_, boy!" snarled Karak. He turned, smiling expectantly at the haggard Tenel Ka.

"Oh, Karak. I just remembered."

He looked resentfully at the other sister.

"Minor Mistress forbade you."

The twosome left. Tenel Ka staggered over to Benji. "Thanks," she choked, her head throbbing fiercely.

Benji intently got up, frowning. He carefully turned his head, his blue gaze scanning for his sister. He murmured, "Maybe some slugs..."

"The guards are immune," Pooja said softly, dropping from the ceiling. She looked at Tenel Ka and smiled slightly. "Guess who's here."

The boy snorted, tossing his hammer away. "It's about time!"

"You three. With me." A slim cloaked form gestured for them to come after her.

For being so short, the mystery woman strode swiftly. She stopped by a small room. "In there."

Tenel Ka was the last to enter and turned around as she did so. The door locked in her face. She scowled. "Trap."

A man groaned behind her. "Do you have to fly?"

The Queen Mother pivoted, spotting the prisoners she'd helped feed arguing before a ship's open hatch. The blonde scowled. "First of all, Gundark, like you'd be able to manage in a cockpit—and even if you could, who's the better pilot, here? I am! Now shut your trap and get aboard before the reinforcements get here!"

"Too late!" shouted Pooja, shoving Benji and Tenel Ka foreward as the door blew up.

Grabbing the boy as he stumbled and yelped, Tenel Ka carried him up the ramp as the couple also scrambled in and headed immediately for the cockpit. For some reason, Ben was fighting her.

She turned around as the docking hatch closed and saw why. Pooja had received a lightsaber in the chest, and now used her life-senstivity to keep the guards' snarling carnivores at bay, sparing them the razor talons that could shred a hole in the ship.

The girl looked back and smiled wanly. "Take care of... _Ben_!" she hoarsely choked out, but that took all her strength. She dropped to her knees, losing her hold on the creatures which immediately ripped her to shreds. Benji started screaming, collapsing from the pain eveloping him from the Force.

Tenel Ka stayed staring at the hatch as it sealed and they took off, blasting their way out of the hangar bay doors. A child had sacrificed herself for her.

_Not a fact,_ her mind reminded her. _They're much older than they look._

But even that couldn't help the guilt.


	30. TwentyFive

Author's Note:

Thanks again, Falcona, for your prompt review! Regarding the Fallanassi, they're actually the skeleton for this story. I could go into my _very _ complex rationalization of all this, but I that would take too long. I'm hoping to get it directly in sometime later in the story so the hints I'm dropping tie together.

If any of you have been wondering what Yni thinks like (or if you haven't been wondering) you're getting a glimpse of her perspective, this chapter.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-FIVE**

Finishing a formal letter, she paused. She could spare a few minutes to recall...

• • • • • • • • • •

_His face lit up on entering the hangar. "Tahl!"_

_She smiled in return, giving him a hug and taking his bag. He protested, but she just shot him a wry glance and tossed it on the ship. She wrapped her fingers around his._

_"Until next time," she said warmly. "Missions can be short, you know."_

_Qui-Gon didn't respond, so Tahl turned to look at him._

_He was staring. Like..._

_She glanced worriedly at the Jedi pilot; felt relieved the man hadn't noticed. "Qui-Gon, please. Will you leave me without a word?"_

_Her effort to get his attention worked. But she was standing close to him, and he abruptly kissed her._

_She reddened. He was shocked. "I—I—I'm sorry, Tahl. I... I don't know where that came from." Not letting her respond, Qui-Gon dashed up the ship's ramp and left her._

• • • • • • • • • •

Tahl swallowed, fingers clenching. She'd managed so far to avoid the memories of what he'd forgotten, but now she couldn't. Not now. She forced herself to bury them, to hide them, else—

The Force yanked on her attention. Tahl listened only a moment before obeying, readying her hand inside her garment as she ran away from her desk and through the Senate building, startling several with her speed and lack of trouble in passing them.

A fellow Jedi was in trouble.

* * *

"What happened?" Jedi Master Luke Skywalker entered the waiting room.

Barriss, the girl who'd treated his father, stood looking guiltily at the floor. She poised formally, ill at ease.

She drew a breath and met his gaze. "We sparred, Master." Her lips tightened into a thin line, and she continued severely. "For my part I dismissed her apparent discomfort as due to bruises, since she was ill-equipped to counter my kata."

"Kata?"

"A method of hand-to-hand self-defense." She looked ashamed. "I did not realize she suffered from anything more serious until after I completed the twenty-first kata. My blow to her abdomen caused a rupture."

"A rupture?"

She nodded.

"What sort of... rupture?"

She frowned slightly, but other than that her face didn't twitch. "I am not permitted to say."

"Cilghal forbade you?"

"My vows forbid me, Master. I am a doctor and am bound by the medical laws."

He gave her an odd glance. "You're older than me. There's no reason to call me 'Master'."

"Age is irrelevant," she just had to point out. "You are a Jedi Master. I'm not, and we're not friends. Therefore proper address is Master Skywalker. However, considering your father is my friend and I call him Skywalker, I have taken the liberty of shortening it to Master."

Luke watched her incredulously. "Was the old Order really that bureaucratic?"

She blinked. A quick smile and eyeroll followed. "You have _no_ idea..."

* * *

"You should _not_ be up!"

"Sorry, Durron. Even politicians have to say 'no' to their desires, sometimes."

"Your _desires_?! This is your _health_ we're talking about, here! You were _blown up_, for Force sakes!"

"Yes... How original," she absently replied. Distracting bicker was easy to accomplish with him, which relieved her. Terra quickly typed for her, letting her in to her messages.

She stopped the hand-creature, spiders crawling up her spine. _Force!..._ She closed her eyes.

"See? Even you need your rest, Misti—"

"Senator!" she sharply reprimanded, glaring at him. _How dare he take up informal address with me!_

Her blood chilled, remembering another impudent Jedi, back—

She slammed that memory shut, focusing abruptly on her viewscreen. Ignoring Tayun's whining pleas for an explanation, she opened whatever message was highlighted.

And nearly trembled in frustration. _Why? Why do I always have to be recognized?_

She recalled her conversation with the Master Jedi. He'd come to pay a visit to her secretary, but had soon been visiting her, as well.

_'How did you know?' she asked him._

_Concern showed on his face. 'You have a very distinctive voice, Your Highness.'_

This, however, was no matter of her voice. It was her _name_. After months of no one recognizing it, she thought its creator had decided to ignore it.

She typed in the code to access the decoding program they'd come up with, years ago.

_General Siri Tachi. Only you..._

Despite Durron's presence, she stared at the message.

It wasn't from Siri.

She read the beginning line again.

_My Dear Cousin._

* * *

Lando Calrissian was frozen in place, fearful the least movement on is part would result in the Dark Jedi slicing him in half.

Yni Lecarr was an absolute mess. Her hair was falling out of whatever was holding it up, and some had encountered the Dark Jedi's blade. Her loose garments were riddled with burn marks, a few reaching her skin. Thus far she seemed to have avoided any serious injury, but that wouldn't last forever.

He wondered if this was why she wore her tunic baggy...

Suddenly, another lightsaber ignited. Lando breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, Luke or somebody—

He almost groaned on seeing the stranger. The woman looked like she could give Jade a run for his money. Yni couldn't—

The girl was thrown into him, knocking him back, and the tall woman engaged the Dark Jedi. He stared when recognition hit him. Wasn't she a Senate orderly?

Whatever she was, she managed a lightsaber like a Jedi, taking advantage of the hangar's uneven ground to pull more acrobatics than he'd seen Luke do in battle.

At one point, she ran up a wall and brought down her lightsaber in a backhanded swing. Just watching made him dizzy enough for his vision to spin. How did she pull _that_ off?

He heard a lightsaber encounter something and quickly paid attention. A bit of dark silky hair fell to the floor. Some of the woman's long hair now fell to her shoulders.

By the time he could focus again, the Dark Jedi was gone.

The woman came up to him and Yni, not even sweating. She offered a hand to each of them. "Calrissian. Naberrie."

Yni perked up, leaping to her feet. "You know who I was?"

A smile showed in the woman's dark eyes. "Yes."

Calrissian felt his age as he accepted her assitance. "Thank you, Madam."

"Secretary will do."

He froze.

She met his gaze. "You wanted a title."

Lando watched her closely and gave a half-hearted chuckle, uncertain if she was joking or not. He then turned to Yni. "Let's get you to—"

He stopped as he saw the girl spit into her hand and rub it on the burn on her arm. And weirder yet—he saw it _healing_.

"What the...?"

'Secretary' checked her hair, and with a swift stroke evened out the haircut, her other hand slightly lifted towards him. "I suggest you go check on Tendra."

Lando blinked. "If that guy was after me, I'd better go make sure no one else went after Tendra..." He headed to his ship.

* * *

Watching Calrissian go, she giggled as Master Tahl took down her hair. "You're _bad_!"

"What was I to do? Let him report that you aren't Human?"

Her ragged hair about her dirty face—she'd toppled some trash bins while avoiding Jade—she stuck her tongue out at the Knight, dodging a playful smack to the head.

She bumped her hurt shoulder and winced. Yni hoped she wouldn't meet any more bad guys—at least until someone convinced Master Thracia to let her have a training saber. "He'll still tell Luke when he calls him."

Master Tahl's face hardened. She wondered what the woman would look like without the lenses. She'd heard Master Tahl was a Noori, whatever that was.

"He won't have a chance to." Master Tahl stretched, then reached out a hand for Yni. "Let's go have breakfast."

Her mood brightened. She'd been wondering why she didn't feel so good. "Okay!"

The Knight held up a hand. "Wait." Carefully, she fixed Yni's hair so it angled on both sides and put a cloak on her. "There. Now no one will wonder where you got such marks. Come."

Elated by Tahl's approval, Yni skipped as she followed.


	31. TwentySix

Author's note:

Falcona, Yni's spit isn't quite _that_ adaptable, but you have the right idea. The other Jade will probably show up, sometime...

Thanks, Plokoon. I like Barriss, myself; but I'm not familiar with Plo Koon, beyond knowing his status. I understand the girl will be in Episode III, as well…

Next chapter is incomplete. Sorry. Do keep reviewing, though! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**TWENTY-SIX**

Jedi Knight Jacen Solo was frozen in place. The Queen, her handmaiden, and Tira had been engaged in some mysterious conversation in which Her Majesty collapsed; and as soon as the hangar bay door began opening Tira had fled. As if something was majorly wrong.

The Force wasn't warning him, though. So there was absolutely no reason, no reason at all, that his hair should be standing on end as that hangar door opened. Or for him to be chilled. He had an irrational fear of what was in that hangar...

Beside him, Handmaiden Clee Rhara abruptly burst out cursing.

...Something about traitors, hypocritical 'masters', illicit relationships and those produced in them, with a few extraordinarily colorful ones directed towards Darth Vader, Palpatine, and a 'Dooku'...

"Don't say that about my grandfather. He redeemed himself," quietly protested Jacen.

She turned her gutter vocabulary on _him_. Amongst the swearing, Rhara snapped, "And what do _you_ know of Darth Vader, kid? Or Anakin Skywalker? Of what he did? He murdered your—"

"Knight Rhara!" interruped the regal man who stepped through the hangar bay door. "Such language! And to such a renowned Knight—"

Yadmi stepped between himself and the man, her characteristic disinterest replaced by grimness. Her voice now sounded low and strained... _old_, even. "What you do to him is not my affair. However—" she resumed, cutting off Rhara's shocked protests. "Jacen Solo is guarded by dead."

_Guarded by dead? Dead what? How can dead guard?_ The Jedi Knight tried to make sense from the handmaiden's statement. _...What would 'dead' be interested in _me_, for?_

Merely humored by her warnings, the man replied, "You _are _among the dead, my dear Master Chayunda—or might as well be, at any rate!" He came forward and took Jacen's hand, smiling. "I am _honored_ to make your acquain—"

Rhara yanked him away from the man. "Just kill me and get it over with, Dooku."

_Dooku?_ Jacen idly wondered why everyone was behaving so oddly, and why the redheaded handmaiden had previously grouped 'Dooku' with Darth Vader and Palpatine.

Dooku looked shocked. "_Kill_ you? Clee! Such ideas! What would Qui-Gon say to you thinking such things of his old master, pray tell?"

"Qui-Gon wouldn't give a—" Jacen noticed Wiala wince as Rhara cursed yet again.

Figuring he'd better be careful, he sidestepped to a guarding position beside the Queen. He lay a hand on Wiala's shoulder.

The as yet immature young teen shook him off, steel muscles taut as she scrutinized Dooku. Jacen wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her mutter, "_Humans._"

* * *

Fleeing her father and his contingent, Kiacha suddenly gasped as fire tore through her chest. She stumbled, falling hard on the stone of the oddly empty main square. She heard, rather than felt, the _crack_.

"Sithspit!" was the least vile of the words she let loose. Then, after she'd finished her furious growling and hissing, she quietly moaned, "..._Pooja_."

She pulled herself into a sitting position, staring blankly at the ground in front of her. She fought to find the older girl's Force-presence.

...Nothing.

Her second best friend was _dead_.

A small part of Kiacha's mind realized that she'd better find somewhere to hide and heal before she began feeling that injury. That tiny portion happened to be in control at the moment.

She dragged herself into a side alley. Using a wall for leverage, she pulled to a stand. She walked the rest of the way to the secret passages Queen Amidala had used in the Battle of Naboo, intensely keen for any Force use aimed in her general direction. It would not take much for her father to find her.

And her mental oddities didn't help.

She slammed her right palm into the wall, sensing the break in her wrist nanoseconds before the blinding pain shot up her arm.

Pain. Good. She deserved it, blast it. Ramallia may have called the Jedi help, but had the woman any choice? Kiacha hadn't done the best job at keeping her father from Naboo, herself.

...She supposed she should have been grateful that her father had been the one sent, as he was the most politic of... Ramallia's father's... servants. Jacen Solo would probably be so clueless that Father would have him tied like a string puppet.

She stopped. Waterfalls thundered further down the tunnels, but they barely registered. The Commander wouldn't be pleased about Jacen's capture. Maybe even panic, depending on how the Force had been treating her, lately.

Not that it ever had treated that woman particularly well...

Kiacha groaned, her first fracture now making itself felt. Force, why did it have to be her hip? That would take so much more work to set, especially without anyone picking up her Force use...

She cursed herself.

* * *

_This. Is. Bad._

_This. Is. Very. Bad._

_I Hate. _"_Humans._"

She shuddered, hastily taking control of that last thought. She didn't hate them, truly; they were just so exhasperating!

Many of her cousins were mostly Human, anyway. She'd spent most of her life with Humans. So one would think the eight-year-old would have adapted rather easily.

Any such one would be ignorant of Fallanassi. She had spent her first year immersed with her mother's Current. That had seared her mind.

Mother had made things easier for her, using the Force to 'upload' chunks of necessary information into her brain. It was hard to access, particularly at first; and sometimes it wasn't until she was in a situation that needed it that she realized she had it; but it had been her people's way for generations; and it worked.

And she majorly needed to think more simply if she ever wanted Mother to hear her.

She cringed as Knight Rhara swore, again. _So you're livid—we get that, already!_

Wiala edged towards Knight Solo. He really wasn't all _that_ bad. His obliviousness was nothing compared to her second cousin.

Deceased_ second cousin_, she corrected herself, though there was no reason she should have gotten that one wrong. That particular cousin had been dead for years prior to the Battle of Naboo, so she had died over half a century before Wiala had been born.

And that was one of her _less_ convoluted familial ties.

Mixing blood with other species really did mess things up.


	32. TwentySeven

Author's Note:

Thanks **Falcona**, **Luke**, & **Kaial Skywolf**! (How many of you guys _are_ there? —Do I want to know? :) Jaina's going to figure more later, I'm thinking, but she probably won't be a top player. Leia won't show up much... She _might_ become major, though. At the moment, she's still comatose. Tahiri's currently out of commission, but her recovery will begin in a few chapters... Luke's part is growing. A1's part in this will definitely grow, but not until his 'few weeks' of recovery are up—remember what Barriss said. That cover everything?

Sorry for the wait, guys. I _am_ working on this! It's just in a _very_ sluggish rut, right now... I'm getting all these ideas, but they're all too far ahead in the story! (More like sequel time period.) I'm fighting it, but that means these chapters are forming _extremely _slowly... Especially these on Mon Cal.

Tell me what you think, guys. The blunter, the better.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-SEVEN**

Eating a cafeteria breakfast, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker watched Senator Whitesun run her hands over her gray hair, leaning slightly away from Kyp. Jedi Master Durron seemed angry at her, waving his arms and pointing at her hair, her datapad, and her cup of tea.

Luke frowned. He picked up his tray and headed over to join them.

"...And you're _still_ working!"

"Is something wrong?"

"_Yes_ something's wrong! Misti doesn't—"

Senator Misti Whitesun exploded. "I _am_ Senator Whitesun, sir!"

"Well, excuse me, Senator," snobbily replied Kyp. "You're working yourself to death, you never eat—"

"You've never seen me eat so I must _never _eat, is that it?" she tersely mocked.

"It isn't _normal_!"

"Normalcy is relative."

"Health isn't, though," timidly offered Yni Lecarr. "He's just concerned for you."

"He may return his 'concern' to whatever eddy it flows from. As may you."

Tears welled in the young lady's eyes at the Senator's cold tone. "But—"

"Hush, child."

Yni tucked her side braid into her mouth and chewed. She sniffed. "But Si—" A glare from the Senator silenced the girl. She gulped and whispered, "But the—"

Whitesun forcefully returned her tea mug to the table. "Dear," she said thoughtfully. "Do you _want_ to meet a giant squid?"

The young woman yelped and fled, passing Whitesun's secretary bearing two trays. The tall dark caramel-skinned woman scowled. "I'm beginning to wonder if it wasn't a good thing that the Force willed that you not be a mother." The secretary went after Yni.

At the woman's words, Whitesun froze, teacup almost to her lips. Her hand shook. She blinked quickly, putting her other hand over her face and turning away from the two Jedi.

Abruptly she stood and took a few steps after her secretary. "Tahl!" she called. "Tahl! Please!"

On 'please' her voice wavered, and she glanced with a tight brow back at Luke. Misti bit her lip and hurried after Tahl and Yni.

"Don't, Kyp."

Master Durron huffed, but didn't trail after the Senator. "You know, that woman is impossible to make think about what might be best for _her_. She tosses me off from being her bodyguard whatever chance she gets, though she obviously needs one!"

"Guard Tahl."

Kyp stared at him. "_What_?"

"We've been requested to guard Tahl."

Luke already knew who he was going to ask for Misti Whitesun.

* * *

_What's eating you?_

_Shut up, Tayun._

_Why are you so upset?_

_Tayun._

_Was his mother _that_ bad?_

Senator Whitesun swatted her own head.

..._It isn't his mother he reminds you of, is it?_

_Tayun domain Kwaad!_

_...Is it that he's a Jedi?_

Misti Whitesun forcibly drove Tayun away. She frowned, looking for Tahl and—and Yni.

She sensed her mental companion listening with piqued interest. She closed her eyes and sighed. The girl was learning—quickly, at that, now that Tayun had gotten the hang of things...

Even so, it was like being her own mother, sometimes...

_No. Not sometimes. Often._

* * *

"Tahl!"

Jaina turned to see Senator Whitesun hurrying after her secretary and that weird 'Yni'.

"Tahl, I—"

The woman's pale face abruptly whitewashed. She choked on her words. "Pooja," she whispered and collapsed, unconscious.

The Jedi Knight hurried over and checked for a pulse. Erratic.

Tahl and Yni joined her. The girl-woman was chewing on her hair. "Is she all right?"

"Who's Pooja?"

The secretary gave Jaina a sharp look. "What?"

But Yni had started. "That was Pooja?"

"_What_ was Pooja? Who is she?"

Yni twitched at Tahl's question, staring at the floor. "Pooja. Sola's girl. She just..." She tugged on her hair.

They waited. "...Yes?" prodded Jaina when no continuation came.

She shrugged. "Pooja's like Sola, now."

"Sola?"

"Sola..." Unlike the Jedi Knight, Tahl's response was thoughtful. "Sola Naberrie?"

The brunette nodded widely—and wandered off to examine something that caught her eye.

"Who's Sola Naberrie?"

Tahl gave Jaina a slight smile. "Someone who's dead."

She blinked.

The secretary leaned closer, offering a sharp nod back towards Yni. "Miss Lecarr needs such connections to understand something. Call it a side effect of her parents losing her at two."

"Say what?" Jedi Knight Jaina Solo felt like Jacen.

"Just humor her." Tahl stood, hauling the still-unconscious Senator up by the arm. "She's highly informative, after her fashion."

Before Jaina could frame a question, Tahl had carried her employer away. She headed after them, but a yelp and flying sparks caught her attention.

The Jedi Knight caught Yni and hastily rewired the frying circuitry. The brunette shrugged sheepishly. "Jar Jar did that."

_Fried circuits?_ Jaina eyed her, wondering just how much of Yni's behavior was an act. No adolescent was _that_ puerile.

_Well_, she figured, _there's only one way to find out._


	33. TwentyEight

Author's Thanks:

To my reviewers the **SkyWolf clan**, **Dragonsdaughter1**, and **Queen Ame**.

•**F, L, & A SW** - :D You guys must be fun to hang around... Thanks for sticking in. I enjoy your company. ;)

•**Dd1** - Confusing... Sorry. Thanks for giving me that heads-up. I'm trying to figure out ways to work on that. (P.S. Sorry if my review seemed harsh. I didn't intend it that way.) :)

•**QA** - Ulh... You're not getting it? That would be my end... I tend to make my stories maddeningly complex. I am struggling to find methods of correcting that problem. Thank you. :)

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry for the long wait, & short chapter. I'm starting to join story threads, so that might help... If you remember any story threads that I forget, remind me, please.

I haven't been on in awhile partially because I've been sick for four weeks. Still am. Lord willing, some of those doctors tests I went through today will reveal the problem. If not, there's the glucose test I'm going to have next week. School's stressing me out, & I've been so stuck on this story that I've felt guilty about showing my face...

Ne'er mind me. I want to hear your thoughts on this story, even if it's the worst you've ever read. The usual stipulations of no blaspheming or swearing apply. Thank you. :)

Enjoy! :)

* * *

**TWENTY-EIGHT**

A yelp awoke her.

Queen Mother Tenel Ka leapt up and reached the door to Ben's quarters as the other two escapees did so.

The pregnant blonde was scowling. The woman knocked on the boy—_man's_—door. "Ben?" she called.

They could hear someone dragging himself to the door.

It hissed open, its opener pale. "Sorry," Ben hoarsely apologized.

"Who is it?" The blonde, though terse, spoke softly, supporting Ben's arm.

The apparent youth distractedly shook his head. "Tiara De," he choked. "She's hurt. ...Her hip and arm, I think," he added. "She's shielding hard."

Tenel Ka frowned. "She shields, yet you sense her?"

Ben shrugged stiffly. "We've been together most our lives."

" 'Together'?" the man asked drily.

Benji rolled his eyes. "In the same place... _Friends_. We've been on Dathomir, for Force sakes. If she had captured a husband, it definitely wouldn't have been me."

"What makes you say that?" The woman's voice now held a sardonic tone.

"We're best friends. Why would we ruin that with marrying?"

The Queen Mother considered his words. The two fellow escapees coughed, sharing a glance.

"That wouldn't exactly _ruin_ your relationship, Ben..." the blonde tried to explain.

"It would when she had one of her nightmares and killed me in her sleep."

"Oh. Now that's a reason."

"You are best friends?" asked Tenel Ka of the blonde and her companion.

"Could've fooled me," the man wryly commented.

The blond slapped him. "Shutup, Oafy!"

"Hush, little girl. Go take a nap."

"I don't think so—"

Ben rolled his eyes and went back to bed. Tenel Ka followed cue and headed to the cockpit, leaving the couple to their bickering.

•••

"_No_."

Tenel Ka turned to the blonde. The woman was staring dully at the empty viewscreen. She'd joined the Queen Mother awhile prior, silently checking over the navicomputer.

"Siri?" Her companion ducked in, covered in circuit grease. "What's the matter?"

Siri moved a hand to her abdomen. "Obi-Wan," she whispered.

Tenel Ka raised an eyebrow. The man's name was Obi-Wan?

He hovered near the woman... his wife, she guessed. After a moment, distress emitted from him, as well.

With a frown, she probed the Force for clues to whatever bothered them.

She couldn't sense the child.

The Queen Mother left the cockpit to allow the couple privacy to mourn their son. She wondered what had happened. He had been healthy enough...

Stepping into her bunk-room, she smacked into a Force-wave of danger which drove her to her knees. She dimly heard another yelp from Benji.

The boy-man staggered in, sweating. "You... okay?" he wheezed.

She stared blankly at him.

He gulped a few times and called for "General Kenobi". A part of her recognized that was strange, but she couldn't focus enough to figure out what.

The danger wasn't hers.

Face composed the couple hurried in. "Wh—?" The blonde knelt beside her.

"It's Jacen."

"Jacen Solo? Didn't Vergere say..." The woman caught herself and blushed. "Never mind," she muttered, sending a calming pulse of Force-energy towards Tenel Ka. Her husband joined in, his Force-power muted.

"Thank you. I am fine." Now able to concentrate, she stood up and headed for the cockpit. "I must help my friend."

"Don't we all," the man, General Obi-Wan Kenobi, said grimly.

She stopped, whirling to face him, lightsaber ready. "Obi-Wan Kenobi died over thirty years ago."

"And...?"

"Vergere died too soon to have met you after leaving the Yuuzhan Vong."

The blonde grimaced. "Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it isn't true."

"Fact." Her blunt statement caught the couple off guard. "Therefore, explain."

The other woman eyed her as if she wasn't sure if Tenel Ka was up to something. 'Kenobi' smiled slightly. "Very well. We'll explain the little we understand." He glanced at Benji. "_After_ changing course to Naboo."

"Naboo?"

"That's where Jacen is." With the smile, he headed towards the cockpit.

"I'll do it—" his wife and Benji said simultaneously.

A scowl flashed over her face before the blonde caught herself and smiled. She waved the apparent youth on. "No mimicking your uncle, now."

"Yes, Master Tachi!" After a hasty bow, he scampered to the cockpit.

"His uncle?"

Tachi gave Kenobi an incredulous stare. "You can't tell?"

Her husband frowned. "We'll discuss this later. Now, we have the explanations to give." He paused. "Perhaps these would be better digested with some tea..."

They headed for the galley.

* * *

Grinning, Benji Naberrie darted into the cockpit and slipped into the pilot's chair. He patted the controls.

"Sweet ship," he breathed. But now, that he was away from the others, he let his grin slip, revealing a strained suppression of pain.

He tapped a few buttons, at ease. He checked their location and trajectory. A rapid mental calculation told him they'd reach Naboo faster if he waited seventeen-point-one minutes to drop out of hyperspace and alter course. There was a shortcut over by Tatooine, though no one knew of it. His aunt had found it on accident and had told no one, her bodyguard included, until...

It was hazardous, yes, but he was certain he could manage the microjumps and such well enough that the General wouldn't be able to complain. And Master Tachi could always take over. She knew it, too.

Timing himself so he'd plan it right, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

In his mind, he gently reeled, snipped, and tightened strands, clearing out the tangle that had developed between himself and his dear friend since he—he and sis—had helped her escape.

He bit back a sob.

She'd never called her 'bro', or any brotherly term like that. She'd suspected, like everyone else.

Like he did.

He remembered his Force-granted dream from a few nights ago. He made the connection to what he feared.

He didn't let himself groan. They'd hear him. But still... It hurt. It really, really hurt.

"Mom," he whispered to nobody, wiping away a tear. "Why didn't you tell me?"


	34. TwentyNine

Author's Thanks: to **Falcona and Luke**!

**F and L** - Thanks. Sorry for the confusion. I would've updated a bit sooner but for the site problems. rolls eyes and sighs Any idea how long the normal response time is to a ticket?

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Author's Note:

Still having problems with the site, so sorry for any weird formatting. I'm trying.

No blaspheming or cursing, but please do flame, critique & put little smilies after jokes. That last one sounds weird, I know, but I need it.

Enjoy! :)

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**Twenty-Nine**

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"You want me to _what_?"

Luke wasn't sure if the deceptively young woman was shocked or offended. "Have you never had guard duty, before?"

"Oh—I've had it," Barriss Offee hastily corrected. "I just…" She sighed heavily. "I was planning on…"

The fomerly dead Padawan shook her head. "No matter." She squared her shoulders. "I'll probably be reassigned soon, but I can help until then."

The Jedi Master eyed her a long moment, then directed her into a small side conference room. She followed, but her feet shuffled slightly.

The door slid shut. "How's Father?"

Barriss shrugged. "I can't say. I haven't bothered to check on him."

"Could you take a look at Leia?"

The woman's dark eyebrows shot up. "You want me to bodyguard _and_ heal? With all due respect, Sir—"

"Luke."

"Master."

"Kid."

She blinked. "What?"

"If you insist on calling me a title, call me 'kid'. That's what I am to you."

A mild flush came to her cheeks. "My Master would never allow it."

Luke sighed. There would be no convincing her to drop the rules. "Well, when you're knighted…?"

She snorted. " 'If,' you mean. I've been on unauthorized absence for some months, now, and no one's noticed."

Jedi Master Luke Skywalker frowned slightly. "That's not right."

She shrugged. "We had thousands of Jedi, and no one knows who precisely is back. Those who know I'm one of them are probably assuming the others have sent me somewhere, while those who don't know assume I'm still dead. That's what's happening with—"

Now crimson, she halted herself. "Pardon, Master. I just realized what I was about to say."

"What was wrong with it?"

"It's… not permitted, Master Skywalker." She avoided looking at him, examining the window's view, instead.

Her use of his last name caught his attention. Whatever she'd almost let slip had highly unnerved her.

Accepting her silence on the matter, he nodded. "Perhaps you could get the Senator to grant you a glance at Leia, to ensure her well-being. She's been comatose for some days, now."

Barriss rolled her eyes—something he caught a glimpse of in the window's reflection. "A Senator consenting to help someone with an unnamed task," she muttered. "Right."

"She seems to know Master Qui-Gon Jinn."

The Apprentice Healer stiffened. Slowly, she turned to look at him. "…_What_?"

"She gets along with him well."

Face intense, Barriss immediately left.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_Oh_… So this red and this yellow go like this?"

Jaina nodded patiently. "Yes."

"What happens if you go like—"

Jedi Solo lunged at Yni, keeping her hands from connecting the two wires. "That'll start a fire!"

The young woman's eyes lit up. "A fire?"

She didn't like that tone. "A very nasty one from a mini-explosion."

Yni's face changed only in that her eyebrows lifted. "Explosion?"

She nodded.

"That doesn't sound fun."

"It isn't." Jaina was wearing thin. Miss Lecarr was intriguing, certainly, but there was only so much of the dolt that she could handle.

"Oh."

"Jedi Knight Solo," a regal woman's voice interrupted. "Where is your uncle?"

"Busy," she retorted, not pleased to see the speaker. Ta'a Chume. _Great._

The former Hapan Queen Mother's eyes flashed, but the rest of her expression was hidden by a veil. "Where is my granddaughter?"

"Tenel Ka? On the throne where you left her."

"Not for some time."

Jaina scowled. "What do you mean?"

"What have you Jedi done with—"

"Tenel Ka Chume Ta' Djo?"

Affronted, Ta'a Chume turned to Yni Lecarr. "I beg your pardon?"

"That's your granddaughter, right?"

"You are aware of her whereabouts?"

Yni shook her head widely. "No, but I know someone who probably does, and someone else who could find her if Si—if the Senator doesn't know."

Without them asking, she led the way.

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"Hey!"

The woman slowly removed her hand from his wife's forehead, opening her eyes and unfurrowing her brow as she turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"What do you think—"

Leia started waking up.

"You're welcome," the stranger yawned, then she headed out.

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"You're crazy!"

"_I_'m crazy? I'm not the one who wants to dive into a _Sith_ stronghold to find the cure for what they did to my husband—"

"At least I'm not skitzo!"

"I am _not_ skitzophrenic!"

"No, you're just giving yourself multiple personality—"

The door buzzed.

Shooting a glare at her secretary, Senator Whitesun went to open the door. "Can I—Can I help you?" she asked, her question catching upon spotting Ta'a Chume. As if Pooja dying hadn't been enough extra stress…

"Uh-huh!" Yni burst happily in. "The Queen Mother's missing—"

"Why are you bringing this to me?" she asked sharply.

Little Le—Yni blinked. "You like TK."

Determinedly ignoring Tayun's whines for an explanation, she watched the girl blankly. "So?"

"So you watch where she is. Like—"

"That's quite enough," Misti interrupted before—before _Yni_ said too much. "I've heard rumor she's escaped a kidnapping."

"_Kidnapping_?" Ta'a Chume demanded.

Yni chewed her braid. "What kind of kidnapping?" she said through her full mouth.

"That's disgusting, Le—" The Senator closed her eyes. "_Yni_."

The girl spat it out. "Sorry." She smoothed her hair back into place. "So what kinda kidnapping?"

Misti watched Yni, face blank.

After some seconds of the zoophobic's puzzled face, she slowly rubbed her neck.

Yni yelped. "_Blath_—" She stumbled over her own tongue, dodging the Senator and hastily correcting, "Oh, _blah_!" She smiled innocently, grinning sheepishly. "I picked that up from _your_ mother-in-law, you know."

"And I picked up a great deal of Tatooinian slave slang from a certain somebody, too. Do I use it?"

"When talking to Banai."

She blinked. Little Yni picked up her confusion.

"_Kitster_?" she asked, knowing Misti Whitesun well enough to know she'd recognize that name.

She felt herself pale. "I do not."

"Do, too!"

"I don't talk to him!"

"Why not? He'd be happy to help you out. He likes…" Yni glanced aside at Ta'a Chume and Jaina Solo. "Er…"

The Tatooinian Senator turned away. She drew a deep breath, drawing herself up. "Tahl. Do what you can to assist Her Majesty."

Avoiding everyone's gaze, she sat sedately at her desk and tapped a few buttons on her comp. "Now, if you'll excuse me…?

To her immense relief, everyone did as she asked.


	35. Thirty

Author's Thanks: to **Luke SkyWolf's dad**, **Kahara**, **Master Solo**, and **Shinigami**!

**L SW's d** - Thanks for that input. Easier to understand is better. :) Sorry about your fingers… carpal tunnel?

**K** - Well, by the time you get to this chapter, you should see the connection.

**M S** - Oh, yes. Don't worry—she'll be found. :)

**S** - We'll see. :)

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Author's Note:

I know, I've been gone a long time… chronic illness and writer's block don't mix too well.

Yay, I've gotten an idea to restart this story yet _again_! My new idea will involve ministories and, Lord willing, be easier to follow. I'm gonna try to finish this, first, though.

No blaspheming or cursing, but please do flame, critique & put little smilies after jokes. That last one sounds weird, I know, but I need it.

Enjoy:)

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**Thirty**

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_…Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three steps to the far wall, and one, two three—_

"Would you quit pacing?" the dead Knight Rhara complained. "You're making me dizzy."

"No," Wiala simply replied, counting twenty-three steps back. She began the cycle again.

"Anyone know who that Dooku is?"

"A Sith," responded Wiala, not letting herself process what that meant.

Jedi Knight Jacen Solo started.

"A very dead Sith," she absently corrected herself.

"Huh?"

"Has anyone seen Yadmi?" Sokor piped up.

Wiala shuddered in midstep. She knew where Master Chayunda was.

Queen Ramallia finally looked up from staring at the floor of the room they were being held in. "Tortured?"

"Interrogated," she specified. "Dark Side probe, at the moment."

"You can tell?" asked Jacen, surprised.

The eight-year-old Fallanassi heiress merely glanced his way. "No duh." Her pacing didn't miss a step.

"This is my fault," whispered Her Majesty.

Wiala whirled on her. "It is _not_. You've done your best to defend your world. If I was you, I wouldn't be too keen to reveal my parentage, either. You've saved Rhara with Solo's presence. Dooku won't dare reveal himself to the new Order, yet."

She turned and resumed her counted steps. "We can do nothing."

Clee Rhara shot to her feet. "If you think I'm going to sit back and let some kid tell me what I can and can't do, you're gravely mistaken," she growled.

"I was merely stating a fact," responded Wiala without batting an eyelid. "Accepting that fact is up to you."

"Why are my friends so weird?" muttered Sokor.

The eight-year-old winced.

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"_I hate him_."

She gulped back tears. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get rid of the bitter malice that formed her inner core.

Kiacha loathed her father.

She wanted to kill him.

She stared at the far wall of the stone tunnel, listening to the waterfalls' calm music. It couldn't soothe her.

"I'm crazy," she admitted to the secret passage. "I'm emotionally unstable. I _like_ killing."

She hesitated. "Well, a part of me does." Kiacha snorted. "Now my friends are captured, and I'm stuck in this cavern.

"Because I damaged _myself_. I couldn't handle my anger and took it out on me."

She looked at her hands, remembering times when she'd nearly joined the Dark Side, spared only from those friends who refused to leave her side even when she became dangerous enough to kill them…

Her breath caught, recalling when she nearly _had_ killed Ben. His ragged breaths filled her ears; his face shone from sweat and blood. She'd attacked him with her bare hands, but he'd refused to retaliate against her. All the bones and internal injuries had taken months to heal. That hadn't been all that long ago, either.

She covered her ears, vainly trying to block out the sound of his strained, pained voice. Closing her eyes didn't do any good, either.

She'd attacked Pooja more than Ben, but it was Ben's state that haunted her. Pooja's did, of course… Benji's did, more.

In that moment, with her warily prying the Force to heal her wounds and fighting her memories, the thought occured to her.

_Could I… love him?_

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_'A very dead Sith…'_

What in the galaxy had Wiala meant by that?

Jacen watched the petite girl pace back and forth across the room. She seemed so calm, so accepting…

Sith? The Sith had been gone for years; could she have meant Dark Jedi? There were many of those.

For some reason he didn't think so. Wiala was obviously intelligent. She knew what she was talking about.

Unfortunately, no one else did.

"You know who my parents are," Queen Ramallia said suddenly.

Wiala stiffened slightly but didn't miss a step. "Yes."

"What of Tira's?"

The girl replied as if reciting. "Tiara De Billaba Taa' Dooku. Original name: Kiacha Dooku. Spent her first few years raised by Sith father before being rescued Jedi Master mother.

"Father: Darth Tyranus, better known as former Jedi Master, Count Dooku.

"Mother: Jedi Master Depa Billaba, former junior member of the Jedi Council.

"Mental condition: fluxuating.

"Emotional condition: unstable.

"Fighting capability: lethal.

"Loyalties: difficult to procure, but intense once gained.

"Preferred weapon: varies according mental and emotional state. Not the best shot, though.

"Overall assessment: lethal, but much more likely to be such to other side; particularly if you stay calm at all times."

She turned to them and offered a tight false smile. "That's the summarized version. I have her entire profile."

Everyone was frowning at the girl.

She sighed. "I have a Force-assisted memory, all right?" She glanced aside. "I got a lot from Mother."

"You have your mother's memories?" The Queen spoke as if intrigued by something she'd previously heard of, but never before seen.

Wiala's face scrunched. "In a sense. I got much of her knowledge, but she kept most of the memories from whence they came to herself.

She returned to her pacing. "It gets confusing."

Jacen struggled to make sense of this. "...I'll say."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_Pain. Unending pain._

_You can stop it! Let them in!_

"_No_!" she screeched. "I won't—I refuse! I know nothing!"

_Liar._

She shook, her muscles spasming. Her old body couldn't take much more of Darth Tyranus' tender care.

_Sense of humor intact… Good… sign._

But so it often was with those who wittingly accepted death when it was coming. Barring some change of heart on the Sith's part, she was going to die.

_If such is the will of the Force…_

Yadmi, Eirtae, Chayunda—she had been them all.

_Yadmi._

The eccentric handmaiden to Palpatine's granddaughter. The one who struggled to remember who she was; who knew something important was missing from her memory from her past, but couldn't figure out what.

_Eirtae._

Handmaiden to Queen Amidala; participant in the Battle of Naboo. She was the one Tyranus searched, the one who knew too much about her former queen and the queen's family. Too much.

_Chayunda._

Kept her sane, right now. This wasn't the first Dark Side interrogation she'd ever encountered, though she couldn't remember the previous ones; and she knew it was not likely to be her last.

Even if this one killed her.


End file.
